Out of Prison: Sentenced to Life
by mrsaturtle
Summary: **WIP - NOT UPDATED REGULARLY** Hermione Granger is about to face an old enemy when Antonin Dolohov is released from Azkaban because he was forced into a blood oath at 14. When their lives are threatened Hermione is going to learn more things about the wizard from her nightmares then she ever cared to know. Will she turn away from him or will she turn to him?
1. Chapter 1

**A/n: Hello my wonderful devoted readers. For the most part I have always provided you with Dramione, but I have a new man I've fallen in love with writing, and I hope you love him too. This story is for Antonin Dolohov and Hermione Granger.**

 **I have borrowed Antonin from canimal, with express permission and love from her. So if he seems similar, he should and is. Thank you Thank you canimal for letting me borrow him, I promise to be naughty and if I'm rough I promise he'll enjoy it ;)**

 **This story will discuss some elements of child abuse, torture, witnessing dark things because Antonin was a Death Eater. So if that's uncomfortable for you, don't read. This will not be my "normal" fluffy story with NO darkness.**

 **The pairings are: Antonin/Hermione, Harry/Hannah, Ron/Lavender and those are pretty much all you will hear about, because I'm going to be mostly focusing on Antonin / Hermione**

 **TONS of beta love to gidgetmalfoy and my new beta Kanewolfe**

* * *

 _I knew I loved you then_  
 _But you'd never know_  
 _'Cause I played it cool when I was scared of letting go_  
 _I know I needed you_  
 _But I never showed_  
 _But I wanna stay with you until we're grey and old_  
 _Just say you won't let go_  
 _Just say you won't let go_

 _-James Arthur "Say You Won't Let Go"_

* * *

Hermione's heels clacked against the marble floors as she made her way down the hallway to the Minister's office. She received the request for a meeting less than ten minutes ago from Kingsley's secretary, Gemma Farley. Her reply of confirmation was immediate, as was her departure from her office.

Taking the lift a floor up to level one, she greeted a few colleagues while she pondered why Kingsley would request a meeting on such short notice. Her job as Supervisor of the division of Magical Law under Magical Law Enforcement meant she didn't normally have issues of immediate importance.

"Hermione, how are you today?" Gemma asked, when Hermione walked into the little lobby before Kingsley's office. The Slytherin prefect was a beauty to behold, long, auburn hair and bright blue eyes. If Hermione didn't know that Kingsley was uninterested in women, she would wonder if Gemma had been hired for her looks alone.

"Oh you know, just another day at work," Hermione said greeting the witch with a warm smile. Gemma was one of the only Slytherins Hermione knew that would always offer a smile back, and while ambitious, she didn't sweep past people in her quest to advance.

"You can head in, he's waiting on you," the beautiful witch laughed like a peal of bells that would make anyone smile. Gemma nodded as she returned to her paperwork using her wand to send a memo.

Hermione walked to the large oak door with the small gold nameplate bearing _Kingsley Shacklebolt, Minister of Magic_. She pushed the door open to the Minister's warm office. While decorated professionally, Kingsley hid his personal items in plain sight. The back of the cream couch along the wall had a beautiful jewel tone purple blanket. The bookcases were full of an assortment of books, but nestled amongst them were Kingsley's preferred subject, Defense Against the Dark Arts. The chairs angled in front of his desk, while professional looking, were also some of the most comfortable arm chairs that Hermione had ever frequented.

"Hermione, thank you for coming so quickly," Kingsley said as he stood to walk around the desk and embrace the witch. He gestured to the chairs in front of his desk, before he returned to his seat.

Kingsley Shacklebolt was beginning to show signs of his age and the stress of the job. Even with the light grey dusting in his hair and faint wrinkles around his eyes, his eyes still glimmered with youthful joy at the sign of his friend. At the Battle of Privet Drive, Hermione and Kingsley had been paired up, which was a comfort to Hermione. After the war the two had remained close, meeting for lunch a few times a month and visiting one another around the holidays. Hermione had even been one of the privileged few to attend his vows ceremony with his partner, Michael.

"Of course, you rarely ask for an urgent meeting," she smoothed her skirt as she sat down.

"Well, I've had some intel brought before me, with some rather interesting information," Kingsley began, shuffling the folders on his desk until he found the right one. His eyes narrowed, glancing over it, "We just received this missive from a source in Russia. It states that they witnessed Antonin Dolohov forced into a blood oath at fourteen with his father. The oath was to become a Death Eater and serve Voldemort."

Hermione's eyes widened and her stomach dropped. It would never stop surprising her that parents could be so cold-hearted by forcing their children to do things that they themselves weren't willing to do. She held no love for Antonin Dolohov, but what might the man have been if he hadn't been forced to take a blood oath at the age of fourteen? Would he still be the man who haunted her nightmares?

Kingsley continued in her silence, "We've honestly never encountered anything like this, we of course allowed Draco Malfoy off with limited probation because he was so young when he was forced to take the mark, but even Dolohov never brought this information before us. We sent an Auror out to investigate this claim, and retrieve memories from the witness, as well as Dolohov himself to verify the truth. You and Harry are the ones I am turning to; we need to figure out what to do in regards to Dolohov, because not including his sentence after the first war, he's already served six years."

She nodded. Her brain hadn't stopped spinning. Her job as Supervisor of the Magical Law division under Magical Law Enforcement, and Harry's as the Head of the Department put them as the only two people, aside from Kingsley, who could make this decision. She was at a loss for what the decision could even be. Harry was currently out on assignment training some new recruits and wouldn't return for two days.

"Is there an immediate need to remove Dolohov from Azkaban?" Hermione asked looking at Kingsley.

"We have reports that he's had pneumonia for over three months and is in declining health, so a decision needs to be made," Kingsley said as his eyes scanned over the report in his hands.

"So sooner rather than later, I'll contact Harry to see if he can do a floo call tonight," she said, before she stood. "Do you have a copy of that report?"

"Yes, I'll have Gemma give you a copy. Can you let me know what Harry says tomorrow morning?" Kingsley stood and grabbed the report as he walked Hermione to the door.

"Of course," Hermione said striding through the door first as she stood to wait for a copy.

Back at her flat that evening, she sat on her couch going over and over the file that Kingsley had copied, while waiting on the floo call from Harry.

Beyond her personal feelings on the matter of Antonin Dolohov, it seemed he had done a lot in his past, including the murder of Molly Weasley's two brothers, Fabian and Gideon Prewett. This would not be an easy sell to anyone in their community, but when Molly Weasley heard that she and Harry were the ones who aided this process along, it would be exceptionally awkward.

Hermione sighed and took a sip from her wine glass. She knew it was all in her mind, but the scar from Dolohov's curse at the Department of Mysteries had been itching all day. Hermione assumed it was a subconscious reaction to the stress that this particular case brought forward. It couldn't be avoided however, because soon after she left Kingsley's office, she hadn't made it through four pages of the report before she knew she would need to see the pensieve memories herself.

She had rushed back up to Kingsley's office, grateful that her friend obliged her curiosity. The memories themselves had been taken from a witness who had recently been caught on charges unrelated to anything Dark, but in trade offered this tidbit of information. Aleski Kedrov, the son of Antonin Dolohov's father's friend, had been in the house after Antonin's father beat him, and then forced him to take a blood oath swearing loyalty to Voldemort.

Hermione had made a quick run to the Ministry archives to gather some basic understanding of a blood oath and what she had found had made her sick to her stomach. A Blood Oath tied your magic to your life so as long as you lived, your oath would be bound to your magic, and the penalty for not fulfilling a blood oath was to have your magic slowly drain. The end result was the status of a squib. It was no surprise why Dolohov was compelled to become a Death Eater.

Reviewing his crimes was incredibly painful as they were so numerous, but knowing that without following through he might have been tortured by Lord Voldemort, murdered, or lost his magic, she wasn't sure how she would have reacted in his position.

She raised her wine glass to her lips when she heard a small pop from her fireplace. Nestled amongst the flames was her best friend's head.

"Harry," she said dropping to her knees before the fireplace.

"You said it was urgent, are you ok? Is Ginny?" Harry asked, his voice laced with concern and worry, his eyes narrowed on Hermione.

"Yes, we're fine, but Kingsley needs a decision made by the Head of the Department, and it's of an urgent nature. I'm sorry to worry you," she said as she turned to pull the report to the floor in front of her.

"It's fine, what's going on," he said, his face being licked by flame.

"Kingsley was just made aware of some information. When Antonin Dolohov was fourteen, his father bound him with a blood oath to Voldemort," she paused, when Harry whistled, "They verified the information, with pensieve memories as well as Dolohov himself. I talked to Auror McDoughlin who retrieved the memories, and verified his condition. He told me that Dolohov seemed reluctant to speak about the oath, or his father. McDoughlin also explained that he's having an incredibly hard time breathing and they had to administer three pepper-up potions after he retrieved the memories. They're unsure how much time he has left."

She watched as Harry nodded his head. The silence was necessary. Whatever decision was made, there would be backlash. It was a choice between letting a man suffer in prison for crimes he was forced to commit, or dealing with public outcry. This was _not_ going to be an easy decision. "What do you think we should do?"

Hermione sighed, carefully organizing the papers back into the file, "Honestly, he was forced. A blood oath will drain your magic if you don't fulfill it, and he would have become a squib. I know that doesn't nullify his crimes, but he's served…" she paused to flip open the file, swallowing hard. "Twenty years. Harry he's served twenty years for crimes, that yes he committed, but he was compelled. In my opinion, Dolohov should be released on a monitored wand and protected housing until we work out the details, medical attention and probation."

Harry remained silent. Never before had a prisoner been removed before their sentence was over, certainly no prisoner that was serving a life sentence. He sighed and nodded, "How quickly can we get him removed?"

"Within the week, I'm certain. The issue I come back to is where he'll stay, we have no precedent for this," Hermione said, her quill moved quickly as she wrote the formal letter that she and Harry could bring before Kingsley tomorrow.

Harry remained quiet, looking into the distance. "We have an Auror safe house in Cornwall. It hasn't been used in years. We can change the secret keeper, but it's already unplottable with muggle repelling charms, and it's not connected to the floo."

Hermione nodded, her quill now carefully wording the formal pardon, and beneath, the terms of the pardon, "When will you be back in town so we can set it up?"

"Tomorrow evening, but setting up the house can wait until Thursday. If Kingsley approves, we should be able to remove him by Friday. I'll have a mediwitch sent out to begin treatment," Harry said. He watched her write and his attempts to read upside down were not going well, so he waited.

A few minutes later, Hermione grabbed her tongs and passed the scroll through the fire. While she waited, she organized the papers and put them back in the file before she drained the last of her wine.

"Everything seems to be in order, if anything changes we can review tomorrow evening," Harry said, passing the note back through. "See you tomorrow, 'Mione."

"Love you, Harry," she said, and smiled at her friend before his head disappeared from the fire.

* * *

Hermione held a large coffee in her hand as she waited outside Kingsley's office for a few minutes before Gemma smiled and waved her inside.

It had been a long night with very little sleep, fretting over the prisoner that was due to be released. Beyond the pit of fear that had now formed in her stomach, she found herself thinking on the man himself. She had silenced him in the Department of Mysteries, and with clearly prodigious magical ability he still managed to hit her with a curse that created a scar from her right hip to the top of her left breast. It was one of the reasons she hadn't pushed herself to date; it created awkward questions and unnecessary concerns.

Hermione sipped her coffee, the warmth heating her blood, and fighting off the cold that had settled in her body since her visit with Kingsley the day before. A cold that a long bath, a couple glasses of wine and a warm comforter had not helped.

She understood perfectly that he had acted on a blood oath to join Voldemort, but he went on to create spells and use Dark Magic that wasn't required for his service. What prompted this man to create spells for Dark intent? Surely the Three Unforgivables were enough.

She had lost count of the number of times she had to chastise herself for her curious thoughts about a man surrounded by Death Eaters, who managed to create curses that only he knew. It reminded her distinctly of Severus Snape, a man of mystery to be sure. The Sorting Hat had tried to place her in Ravenclaw, had agonized over that decision, and her curiosity right now over Antonin Dolohov was not helpful or necessary.

"Good Morning, Hermione," Kinsley greeted her warmly as she opened the door and closed the space between her and the chairs in front of his desk.

"Morning," she mumbled, knowing she wouldn't be able to hide her attitude from Kingsley, ex-Auror, Current Minister of Magic, and her friend.

"Long night?" He picked up his teacup and eyed the witch carefully. Kingsley could never be accused of being thoughtless or unkind, his concern was obvious for the witch across from him.

"Yes, just reliving old memories. This is new information and it changes the crimes he's committed," Hermione said and removed the file and scroll from her bag. She laid them on the desk in front of Kingsley who ignored them.

He fixed her with a serious stare, "Hermione, while the circumstances or compulsion to commit the crimes have changed, the fact that _he_ committed them, has not. He still is responsible for them, and it does not change the pain suffered at the end of his wand."

Hermione nodded, but remained quiet. Kingsley was right, but she knew there was more to this story, there had to be. Being forced into becoming a dark wizard was a lot different than choosing it for yourself.

"This all seems to be in order, when can we visit the house?" Kingsley noted the silence and her lack of agreement.

"Harry said Thursday. I have a list of the things that need to happen before he's released," she pulled out the list and with a nod from Kingsley explained, "He needs a monitored wand, so a trip to Ollivander's. I need to check and see if any of his belongings are in lock-up when his place was taken after he was sentenced. My list I'm sure will grow once we see the house, it might need furniture and surely it will need food. I also thought we could send a mediwitch out to him early, to begin his treatment."

Kingsley nodded, grabbing a scroll and penned a message. "I'll authorize a mediwitch to Azkaban today, but we need to discuss _who_ will be in charge of him while he's out."

"The Aurors handle all probation and releases," Hermione said, confused by his train of thought.

"Yes normally, but this is _not_ a normal case. I would prefer we keep the amount of people who know about Mr. Dolohov's release quiet for a time."

"To what end, Kingsley?" Hermione watched her friend carefully as he shuffled papers nervously on his desk before he finally looked up at her.

"As I'm sure you know, we have a leak within the Ministry, this source seems to be handing information over to the Prophet. Once we know who it is, we can freely announce it to the public and deal with those repercussions," Kingsley's eyes were etched in disappointment.

"Of course, so who do you propose handles Dolohov?" Hermione asked. She knew Harry had a few trusted Aurors on his staff that could be reassigned to handle this.

"You. I need you to handle this. We will limit your case load so you-" Kingsley's words were cut off by a Hermione's cry of frustration.

She couldn't believe her ears, he must be joking! She stood as she dropped all friendly pretenses, "You do realize, _Minister_ , that Antonin Dolohov hasn't tried to kill me once, no not even twice, but three bloody times! And you want _me_ to work with him?"

Kingsley held up his hands, hoping to offer calm to the agitated witch, "Hermione, I do understand this, but we can not have people knowing he's out, yet. I also cannot allow someone I don't trust to have access to this man's home. We have no idea how the public will handle his release."

Hermione cried out again, but refrained from speaking and began pacing Kingsley's office. The worst part was Kingsley knew, he had been at the hospital to check on her after Dolohov's curse injured her. He had sat on the edge of her bed, grimacing as she drank the 10 disgusting potions that kept her alive. He was the one that saw the jet of green light come flying at her, when she was disguised as Harry. Sighing, she ran her hands through her hair, before she sank back into his chair, "I'm sorry, Kingsley."

"It's perfectly fine, Hermione. I understand your feelings, and if Harry wasn't already so over worked as Head, I would ask this of him." In this moment Kingsley looked older, older than he was, and much more stressed. Hermione knew the loneliness that came from working a job when you couldn't talk about aspects of it, and she was sure as the Minister of Magic there were many secrets he felt the burden of.

She also knew Kingsley cared about her a great deal. When Hermione graduated from Hogwarts, and before she began work with the Ministry, she set off to attempt to reverse the Memory Charm she had placed on her parents. Kingsley and Harry had come along with her. Kingsley had detected how deeply set she had made her charm work, called in some favors and was able to procure a tricky potion that would help access the deeper recesses of their minds and unlock the charm. Hermione would be forever grateful for the Minister's friendship, and knew he would never do anything to harm her.

They ended their meeting after a few minutes, with Kingsley handing her a scroll with access to a Gringotts vault that had been set up for Dolohov.

Hermione rushed back to her office, ignoring the stares of her co-workers or their attempts at conversation with her. She warded her door and slid into her chair, resting her head in her hands. This was absolutely the last thing she wanted or needed to deal with. When was she just allowed to have a normal, quiet life?

Hermione had spent the years since her final year at Hogwarts quietly hoping to just pass under the radar. When the war ended and all the trials began, she, Harry, and Ron all were called forward, and were frequently made to be the subject of articles.

Her relationship with Ron had started up right after the war, and the two words she now used to describe the relationship were obliged and rushed. Ron wanted to speed through the relationship, because they had been friends for so many years, but she had wanted to start fresh, and feel this relationship for the newness that it was.

Ron had initially been displeased when she said she was going back for 8th year. With the joy from the end of the war swirling around them, she found herself trying to hide, while he wanted to bask in the limelight that it was offering. That's when the reports started to come out.

They were hounded by the press, and not just about their official roles in cases or specific trials, but about every aspect of their personal life. Hermione had been able to escape some of it with her return to Hogwarts, but the reports of her ex's behavior still followed her.

The worst report came halfway through her first semester back, and this one included a rather candid picture of her boyfriend at the time enjoying himself with another witch. Hermione was heartbroken, and took refuge for the weekend in the Room of Requirement, which hid her from everyone. This break kept her ex at bay, unable to contact to her, and gave her the time and distance to allow herself to grieve and make up her mind. Their relationship was over, and she hoped they could maintain a friendship, but she couldn't be what Ron wanted.

After graduation from Hogwarts, Hermione laid low at Grimmauld Place with Harry, helping him begin renovation of House Black. Harry had offered her the non-judgemental refuge she needed post breakup, because she didn't feel like she had a place with the Weasleys anymore.

Hermione had a few one-offs since Ron, but stayed single, even though the loneliness sometimes left her breathless and crying in her bathtub.

So, for the Minister of bloody Magic to force her into the presence of someone who had tried to kill her, was just a little bit more then she wanted to deal with.

At least she could say that Dolohov wasn't an actor in the worst nightmare she'd ever had. He had a minor role in comparison to that of Bellatrix Lestrange, and Hermione thanked Merlin, again, that Molly Weasley had killed the evil bitch.

Hermione shook her head. She had work to do, cases to reassign, excuses to come up with and a list of things to do before Antonin Dolohov was to be released from prison.

* * *

Friday dawned much too early for Hermione, who was up to see the sunrise. It had been another almost sleepless night. Purple blasts of light, searing pain, and jets of green light haunted what little sleep she had been able to find.

She fed Crookshanks before she left her flat. She headed to the Leaky for a quick muffin and tea before she met Harry and Kingsley at the Ministry. She was still unsure how she was going to work with him, but she had resolved that this unfortunate pairing would only serve to strengthen her. Hermione was allowing herself to face a fear in order to come out more whole on the other side.

Hermione stood by the Auror's personal apparition point, as she waited for Kingsley and Harry to meet her. They were due to Apparate over to Azkaban, and return with a registered Portkey to take Dolohov to his temporary home.

The former hideout for Aurors during the first war, was honestly a beautiful house that had Hermione wishing it was for sale. Nestled along the coast near Cornwall sat Doyden Castle, though it hardly deserved the title. A small stone home with three bedrooms and a bathroom, it was truly a cozy place once it was dusted, cleaned and aired out, all of which were done by Hermione the previous day when she, Harry, and Kingsley had gone out to the home to increase the wards and change secret-keeper.

She had also put in an inquiry to the Hall of Clutter, a division of the Ministry that acted as the collector of things, to check and see if Dolohov had anything from when they raided any of his former residences. Kingsley had already told her that the account he had set up was some Ministry money and the rest of Dolohov's personal Gringotts account, which was measley.

"Hermione," Harry said in greeting as he approached her. "Just waiting on Kingsley then?"

Hermione nodded, "Is he bringing the portkey?"

"Yes, he said he would pick it up," Harry shuffled his feet, clearly as ready for this trip to Azkaban to be over as she was.

When Kingsley took over as Minister of Magic, one of his first acts was to banish the Dementors from Azkaban. It took a few months to pass it through the proper channels and get it officially approved, but it was. The prison was now run by a special group of wizards: part Auror, part babysitter. Azkaban had undergone a lot of changes in the last few years, including changing the bottom few floors to a low security prison. The prisoners could now leave their cells for a few hours each day. So far, the programs were working.

"Ah, I see him," Harry said. At over a head taller, Harry able to see further than Hermione.

"Harry, Hermione," Kingsley smiled warmly at the pair, before he offered his arm to Hermione. "Can I escort you?"

Hermione nodded, getting the sneaking suspicion that he was making sure that she wasn't able to chicken out and avoid going entirely.

Once the tightness of Apparation released its hold of Hermione's body, she looked around at a very drab and dingy lobby.

"Welcome to Azkaban," Kingsley murmured with barely concealed disgust.

Hermione looked around and took note of the attempts to make this room appear official and hide the real nature of the site.

They spoke with several people before they were directed to a back room, and a man named Alan Wilson.

"Minister, Mr. Potter, and Miss Granger, what an honor," Mr. Wilson's voice was squeaky and reminded Hermione unpleasantly of Peter Pettigrew. With one look at Harry's narrowed eyes, she knew he noticed the same similarities.

"We're here to release Antonin Dolohov, you were owled the paperwork earlier this week." Kingsley's voice seemed to echo in the tiny room, adding to the general awe of the Minister.

"Of course, of course. He's getting _ready_ ," Mr. Wilson said, sitting in the chair behind his desk. "Can I get anything for you Minister?"

"No, I'm fine. Thank you. We will not be staying long," Kingsley said, settling the room into silence.

Hermione looked up a few minutes later when she heard the sound of chains moving across the floor outside the door. She automatically moved closer to Harry, her hand already wrapped around her wand.

The door opened of its own accord, and a guard walked in tugging on a chain that joined with shackles around a skinny, pale, clearly sick man. His brown hair hung, long and dirty, near his shoulders. His deep brown eyes swept the room before they stopped on Hermione and widened.

It didn't immediately register to Hermione that the man before her was Antonin Dolohov, the man in her nightmares was bigger, more intimidating. This man looked as though the wind could knock him down, and she wasn't sure he would have the energy to get back up.

"This is Mr. Dolohov?" Kingsley's voice was raised and quaking, a dangerous sign to the people who knew him best.

"Yes, Antonin Dolohov. Prisoner D-102211," Mr. Wilson said his eyes on the paperwork on his desk and not on the prisoner. "I just checked-"

Mr. Wilson's words were cut off by a loud series of coughs from the prisoner. Each cough seemed to drain more energy from the clammy, thin man, and towards the end of the coughing fit he lost his balance.

Hermione was in action before she could think, her body moving towards the man who had once tried to kill her. Her arms reached for him as he fell to his knees, his cough cut off by a loud groan of pain.

Kingsley was now yelling about inquiries while Harry thundered, equally, beside the Minister, but Hermione couldn't tear her gaze away from the chestnut eyes that widened when they settled on her face.

"It's you, you finally came for me, Pchelka," Antonin Dolohov's voice should have sent a thrill of fear through her system, but it was low and calming.

She had no idea what he had just called her, or what his words meant, but from the way he was cradled against her she could feel the heat radiating off of him.

"Kingsley," her voice was low, pleading. This caught the attention of all the men in the room, including the man in her arms, who groaned, mumbling words in Russian. "He needs to be taken home _now_. He's very sick. He needs medical attention."

"I'll get them there, Kingsley," Harry said with one last glare at Mr. Wilson before he took the Portkey Kingsley offered.

"Mr. Dolohov, you have to touch the Portkey," Hermione said, her voice warm and low, as though she spoke to a small child.

"Where are we going, Pchelka?"

"I'm taking you home, Mr. Dolohov," Hermione answered as he reached his fingers towards the small bottlecap.

"Home," he murmured before they were all pulled away with a bright blue light.

* * *

 _To be continued..._


	2. Chapter 2

**A/n: Hello beautiful readers, thank you _soooooo_ much for all the love for this fic! It truly warms my heart. Life is still a bit crazy, but it _might_ be evening out soon. **

**If Antonin seems familiar to you, it's because I'm borrowing him from canimal. If you're itching for more of _him_ , please go read The Dark Mage's Captive for some serious Antonin love. **

**Huge beta love to kanewolfe and gidgetmalfoy for their constant support, love and editing magic.**

 **I do _not_ own Harry Potter, if I did Dramione would have been a thing. **

**Remember your reviews are the currency that power and pay for this work that I love to provide for you, so I just ask that you offer me a little token of love. If you're worried about saying something dumb, nothing is dumb, except rude comments.**

* * *

Harry, Hermione, and Antonin landed in the soft grass in front of Doyden Castle, Antonin's home for the time being. Antonin was coughing again, his energy waning, he began to fall. Hermione and Harry each hooked an arm around his sides and heaved him into the house.

They laid him gently onto the sofa just inside the door, where his hacking continued. Hermione went to the kitchen to get him a glass of water.

"Harry, he needs to have a mediwitch come out," Hermione said, as she held the glass to help Antonin drink.

"We have to restrict access to this house, you know that. If you're ok with it, I can have Hannah come out?" Harry wrung his hands, uncomfortable involving his wife. His wife was as kind as they came, but she was fiercely loyal and protective and this would certainly challenge her.

"Ok, grab me a scroll." Hermione set the glass down on the floor, as Antonin struggled to breathe. Harry fell into the old habit of going to her small beaded bag, waving his wand, he summoned a scroll and quill for his friend.

Hermione quickly penned the address for Harry, and watched him leave. She sat back on the floor, looking over the wizard before her, stunned. Before getting him from the prison, her mind hadn't been imagining how different he would look, but she wasn't sure why that mattered to her.

He was sick, incredibly ill, and she couldn't just sit by and let the man suffer. No matter what he had done in the past, no one deserved this. She was watched him for a few minutes when his slowly eyes opened and looked at her.

"You're so beautiful, Solnyshko," Antonin's voice was low as the words fell from his lips.

Hermione's eyes widened and she was couldn't stop herself from blushing deeply. Her body heated up, mimicking his own fever, as she lowered her eyes away from him.

"You're sick Dolohov. You don't know what you're saying," Hermione murmured, when she finally looked back at him.

He chuckled once before his cough overtook his body once again. Grabbing the glass, Hermione offered it to the wizard. He didn't take it from her, but nodding instead when his coughs had subsided, and she helped him take large mouthfuls.

A few minutes passed in silence, while he struggled to not cough and take deep oxygenating breathes. When the door opened and Harry and Hannah Potter nee Abbott walked back in, the blonde's eyes immediately narrowed at the wizard on the couch. Zeroing in on her best friend, "Uh, why is Antonin Dolohov out of prison and laying on a couch?"

Hermione glanced at Harry who lowered his gaze and suddenly found his shoes very interesting. "I'm assuming then, that Harry did _not_ tell you about Dolohov before he brought you here." The blonde witch nodded curtly and grabbed a chair from the dining table, crossing her arms, she sat down and waited. Hermione sighed, knowing the story would sway the tender Hufflepuff no matter how stubborn she appeared now. "Dolohov was forced into a blood oath when he was fourteen by his father. He was forced to serve Voldemort." Hermione paused when an angry hiss came from the wizard on the couch, rolling her eyes she continued. "This evidence only just came to light. So it was the decision of Harry, the Minister, and myself that he should be released on time served, and not have to serve anymore time for crimes he had committed under force."

"This man has committed murder. As well as an unknown amount of other dark deeds we will never know about," Hannah said, her gaze flicking over to Antonin.

"I understand everything you're saying, he tried to murder _me_. But this is what's happening, and if you don't help him get better, he'll die." Hermione kept her voice calm, even while her hands shook.

She knew it wouldn't be easy for everyone to understand releasing Dolohov, and keeping it from the public wasn't going to stop the inevitable outcry that was coming. Hannah's reaction was just the first of many, and Hermione knew that her reaction would be mild in comparison to the public's. Between the three of them, she felt confident that they would navigate the public's opinions, but first they needed to get the wizard well.

Hannah sighed from the chair as she glanced between Harry and Hermione. "What happens if you ignore a blood oath?"

Hermione had the words on the tip of her tongue, but Antonin coughed, attempting to clear his throat and look at Hannah. "You can die, because the blood oath ties itself to your life source, so everytime you cast a spell it drains you of your magic," he offered. "If the magic doesn't backfire and kill you, you'll eventually end up losing your magic altogether."

Hannah's eyes widened, she looked to Hermione who nodded in confirmation.

The small cottage was quiet, everyone clearly lost in their own thoughts, before Hannah stood up again, and rubbed her hands on her pants. "Alright Mr. Dolohov, I'll treat you. But if you ever do anything to hurt anyone again, I'll make sure your favorite appendage falls off."

Antonin chuckled which led to another coughing fit. Hermione stood and moved to sit in the armed chair in front of the couch as Hannah kneeled on the floor beside him.

Hermione opened her bag, reaching deep inside, she did not notice the curious glance from the wizard on the couch as her elbow disappeared, she extracted a slim purple box. Setting it on the table, she reached inside once more and pulled out a small cardboard box, the size of a baseball, and set it next to the other.

"I think we're just waiting on Kings, he the trackers," Harry said as he watched his friend.

Hermione nodded and continued to watch as Hannah performed diagnostic spells over the wizard, muttering to herself.

"Seems his pneumonia has led to a case of mild bronchitis, which is why his cough is so bad. He's also got a high fever and a rapid pulse. All of these things will go away once we begin treating his pneumonia and bronchitis, but the fever medicine will make him barmy, fair warning. Do you want me to give it to him now?" Hannah asked as she dug through her own bag to extract vials of medicine.

"Can he wait a little bit till Kings gets here? That way we can tell him the terms of release, the Minister wanted to be present." Hermione noted the way detached Hannah had referred to Antonin as though he wasn't there. She looked at him, and he didn't seem to mind as his eyes were still fixed on her. Hermione dropped her gaze from the sick wizard and looked towards Harry who nodded.

"Yeah, but he'll probably be a bit touched for a few days as the potion works the fever from his system." Hannah set some potion vials on the table, all differing colors, and pulled a scroll from her bag. "I'll leave clear instructions on when to administer the potions, but if you have any issues just owl me."

"Thanks so much, Hannah." Hermione smiled at the blonde who gave a small smile in return.

"Thank you," Antonin's low voice growled from the couch.

Hannah nodded, but offered no other acknowledgement. Hermione was surprised by her behavior. She was accustomed to Hannah's normally happy kindness, especially when treating patients, so she. She sighed, knowing this was just a taste of what was to soon be directed at Antonin Dolohov. While she wouldn't feel the effects herself, she couldn't help but feel pity for the man.

A soft knock came from the front door before it was opened and Kingsley walked into the room. Everyone in the room could almost feel the righteous anger rolling off him in waves. Before he stopped and looked at the cottage, his eyes curious, he shook his head and he seated himself at the dining table.

"I swear to Merlin, that man is a doxie breath away from losing his job. I knew that he had little care for the prisoners, but to leave them in such conditions with no treatment and in the filth that I saw. I've ordered an inquiry, but he might have the place cleaned up before they can get there," Kingsley groaned, clearly overwhelmed. And while Hermione knew that he held no love for the prisoners inside of Azkaban, having put many of them in there himself, he would not stand for mistreatment of any person. He put on a different face for the public, but, truly, Kingsley loved all living creatures about as much as Hermione did. "Let's be quick about this business so I can go file the necessary paperwork to get that place inspected."

"I need the rings," Hermione stood and crossed to the dining table, while Kingsley fished out a small velvet black box. "Would you like to do the honors Kingsley?"

Kingsley nodded and stood, Harry and Hermione did as well. Antonin must have sensed the importance of the moment, and struggled to sit himself up.

"Antonin Dolohov, you have been given early release from Azkaban prison for crimes committed while acting as Death Eater for Lord Voldemort," an audible hiss escaped Antonin, which was ignored, "because of evidence presented to the Ministry of a blood oath performed by you and your father, a Vadim Dolohov. The ritual forced you to assume the role of Death Eater, is that correct?" Antonin nodded, his jaw and fists clenched. "The terms of your release are as follows: you will be under probation for the first year of your release. As such you will use only the wand we provide, which is monitored, by Miss Granger, for any Dark activities. You will wear the ring provided by the Ministry which will act as tracker for Miss Granger, allowing her to find you easily. It will also let her know if you are in any danger. You are asked to remain around this property unless you have express permission to travel from Miss Granger. After a term of six months is complete you will be given the opportunity to find employment. After the year is up, you will be free to buy a new wand, and return the tracking ring to Miss Granger. Do you agree to these terms?"

"I do," Antonin's answer was short, and his deep voice gave way to a loud series of coughs.

Hermione reached for the slim purple box, and while she couldn't explain it, felt a great sense of titillation in handing Antonin a new wand. This was normally a very private experience between the wandmaker, the new wand owner, and maybe some close family. But here she stood, the one handing over the new wand. She hoped, secretly, that it would be a good match for him. She had a little experience in using a wand that didn't fit well, and it felt like having a new hand.

Antonin's eyebrows shot up as his hand closed around the box. He opened the lid and tried to fight the tidal wave of emotion building up inside of him. He paused before finally closing his hand around the wand. As his palm made contact with the Aspen wood, a warmth seemed to radiate from his hand through his chest, very unlike the fever in his body. He felt whole again. The corners of his mouth quirked up and he raised his chestnut eyes to Hermione's who watched him curiously.

Hermione broke eye contact with Antonin quickly and opened the box with the two silver rings inside. She tried to control her shaking hands as she handed the box to the brunette wizard, slipping the silver band on her right ring finger.

Antonin smirked at her, taking the box and placing his ring on his left ring finger. "Next time we exchange rings, Pchelka, it will be under much different circumstances."

Hermione swallowed, her face reddened as she looked away from him. With her eyes on the ground, she missed the smirk from Hannah, the wide eyes that Harry set on her, and the narrowed gaze of the Minister as she cleared her throat. "Yes well, Mr. Dolohov, we've altered the wards to this place making me secret keeper. It is unplottable, and only the people in this room know it's location. So until the Ministry releases the news about your release, we ask that you please stay here. We are unsure about how the public will react."

Taking a deep breath, she continued, "We also ask that you refrain from contacting anyone that has any connections to the Dark Arts. While we are not monitoring your communication, we hope that you see this as a second chance."

Antonin fixed her with a hard look, "I have no desire to converse with anyone I was ever once associated with. This is a fresh start, as some would call it, and I'm taking it, however undeserving I maybe."

The cottage was quiet for a few beats before Kingsley clasped his hands together, "I need to get back. Hermione let me know if there are any issues. Dolohov, if you make this hard on her you'll be assigned to me personally, and that will not be enjoyable." Kingsley stated, his voice hard, as he narrowed his gaze at Antonin.

Antonin nodded, and Hannah moved back towards him to start administering doses of medicine.

"I'm going to head into town and get you some food. Do you have anything you want? Hannah, does he need anything?" Hermione doned her outer robes, and picked up her beaded bag.

"Pchelka, I've lived off stale bread and cheese for six years. I'll eat anything," he smiled at her, and Hermione was struck by how beautiful he was when he smiled. She shook her head, banishing the thought.

"He needs soups and tea for his throat. Protein and fatty foods would be best to put some weight back on him," the blonde replied clinically as she assessed her patient.

Hermione followed after Kingsley who hugged her tightly once out of the cottage. "Owl me if he gives you any problems."

She nodded and set off towards the village as a pop filled the air around her. The small muggle village was a thirty minute walk, she was thankful for the opportunity to clear her head and get away from the confusing situation she found herself in.

She hadn't been prepared to deal with the human aspect of Antonin Dolohov. In her nightmares he was this brutish figure who tried to murder her. Now she was faced with a _man_ , a man who was very ill and needed to be taken care of. It wasn't as if there were a plethora of people who could or would sign up to help him, so it would fall to her. Was she ready for that?

Hermione pulled her robes tighter around her despite the fact that the weather was warm for the early September day. It seems that the close proximity to someone who had tried to kill her and her brief visit to Azkaban seemed to have chilled her blood, and the sea winds blowing on her weren't helping.

She had heard many stories over the years about the darkness of Azkaban, but somehow she had thought it would have improved once the dementors were banished. She sighed heavily and realized it was a foolish notion to ever believe the prison on the North Sea would ever be anything pleasant. She seethed at the idea that any person should be mistreated, no matter what they had done. They had already lost their freedom, they shouldn't have to suffer sickness and hunger as well.

Shaking her head, she focused her thoughts more on how she was going to help this man regain his freedom, and the sooner the better. She wasn't keen to spend more time _attending_ to him then was absolutely necessary. He unsettled her, and it would not do for Hermione to lose any of the control over her nightmares that she had gained in the last few years.

Hermione smiled as she passed villagers while making her way towards the greengrocers. After perusing all the aisles, she felt she had bought the store finding snacks, soups, tea and lots of easy dinners for the man who struggled to stand on his own. She had made it halfway through the store before it occurred to her that she would have to cook some of this for him, and leave it ready to heat up again.

She made it back to the cottage with all of the bags conveniently shrunk into one larger bag that she had reinforced with a handy charm. Opening the door, she took in the immediate difference in the room, a noticeable warmth it hadn't had before.

"Pchelka, you're back," Antonin exclaimed, when she shut the door greeting her with a large dopey smile.

Hannah smirked from the chair in front of the couch, "It's the drugs. I meant it when I said he'll be barmy for a few minutes while we get his system up and running again."

Hermione rolled her eyes, "Just what I need an ex-death eater, who once tried to kill me, around the bend."

"Pchelka, did you know that's Harry _bloody_ Potter?" Antonin asked, his voice full of shock and his eyebrows raised high.

Harry and Hannah both chuckled as Hermione set about unloading the shopping. "Anyone want tea?"

"I need to get back to St. Mungo's, thank you though," Hannah said, standing and moving towards the door.

"Thank you so much, Hannah," Hermione said as the two hugged.

"We'll see you Sunday for tea?" Hannah asked, smiling when Hermione nodded.

"I'll be leaving soon too, 'Mione. I need to get back to the Ministry," Harry said, and he too hugged Hermione, before the couple took their leave.

Hermione readied the kettle and set it on the hob before she turned to the wizard watching her from the couch. Sighing, she figured it was time to get to know him at least a little, "Mr. Dolohov, how do you take your tea?"

"One sugar, heavily steeped. You can call me Antonin, if you're more comfortable with that," he sighed, the medicine had finally worn off. He wasn't in a rush to take that pale green potion again. Honestly, he would prefer to suffer the fever then lose his tongue in her presence.

Hermione sat in the same red chair that she had before, "Mr. Dolohov feels more comfortable to me at the moment, if it's ok with you."

Antonin nodded, the weight of the room finally settled around him. Of course she wouldn't feel comfortable around him, her only experience with him was centered around a memory of him trying to incapacitate her.

Hermione sighed, leaning back, "Mr. Dolohov, these are extreme circumstances we find ourselves in that neither one of us would have ever even dreamt of. So, I will try to go forward from here, if you can as well." She attempted to give a professional air, wanting to maintain the lines of a business relationship. As it was presently, the memories of their interactions weighed on the two of them.

Antonin held his tongue, in his experience words meant little compared to the actions of an individual. He would show her that he was changed, and that he was determined to make in his life. He would not squander this opportunity.

His thoughts were interrupted by the tea kettle. Hermione took it off the hob and made them both tea to their desired standards. She carried his tea to him and sat back in the chair. "I'm going to make a few soups while I'm here, that you can reheat, but I'll be back tomorrow to check on your condition and see if you need anything else."

Antonin took a deep breath before he replied, "Thank you for your kindness, it is not deserved, but no less appreciated."

Hermione blushed at the rather warm sentiment. The situation was odd, certainly, but everyone deserved to be taken care of on some level. They continued to drink their tea in silence, and when she had drained the last of it, she stood to begin work in the kitchen.

As she began to peel the potatoes, she suddenly cried out, "I almost forgot!" She waved her wand over the small cardboard box on the dining table, which immediately grew in size. "I was able to get a box of some of your possessions from your residence before you were arrested-." Hermione's words cut off, as her cheeks reddened, never before in her life has she uttered a more absurd sentence.

Shaking her head, she lifted the box and went to place it next to Antonin on the couch, before going back to the potatoes.

Over the next 30 minutes Hermione worked in silence, preparing soups for the wizard that uttered shocked exclamations every few minutes when he found another treasure he was sure he would never see again.

When the soups were finished and placed under stasis charms, Hermione turned back to the wizard who grinned broadly at her. "Thank you so much, Miss Granger," his voice shook with unshed emotion.

"Well they're your things," Hermione replied quietly. "I'll be off. If you need me for anything, just tap your wand to the ring and it'll alert me. I'll be back tomorrow around mid-morning."

Antonin nodded, and watched her as she donned her outer robes and set off through the door. He waited for the quiet pop before he let out the breath he was holding.

"Bloody hell," he exclaimed, his voice cutting the quiet air. He shook his head, chastising his thoughts of the day. He had never dreamed when the guard told him that he was leaving Azkaban that it would put him in direct contact with Hermione Granger for the next year. The girl, now woman, had haunted his nightmares for over eight years, since that night in the Ministry.

Sighing heavily he banished the thoughts from his mind. He refused to go back to that night while awake, it was already unavoidable when he slept. He stood, gathering his weight on his weak limbs, and hobbled over to the hob to pour a bowl of soup that she had made.

It had been six years since he'd eaten anything warm, and just the touch to his hands was enough to warm his whole body. As he ate, he allowed himself to dream of things that he had long given up on. He was now in a world where, for the first time since he was fourteen, his life was not controlled by a blood oath. He was now free to chart his own destiny.

Antonin's true passion had always been charm work. He was wicked quick in mastering them and even better at the creation of spells. It had only taken six months for the Dark Lord to figure that out, and suddenly he was in a highly sought after and coveted position. It allowed him to move quickly in the ranks of Death Eaters, which gave him greater freedom to choose what unsavory tasks he would do.

Now his spell work could be useful, instead of forced on people. What spells would he allow himself to dream? What life did he have before him? As he finished his bowl of soup, he pondered his future. Once he finished, he made his way upstairs, ignoring the rooms until he found his way to the bathroom. For the first time since he was a child, he delighted in the sight of a tub. It had been so long since he had been cleaned by anything other than a cold hose of water against his skin. So tonight he would soak, a long soak to warm his bones. Though he chuckled that first he should shower off the dirt and grime before he soaked, lest the water turn as black as his soul.

As Hermione shut the door to her small flat, she let out a deep sigh, feeling like she could finally take a breath. The day had not been kind to her. Between the trip to Azkaban, the proximity of her nightmare, and having to wrestle with the reality that was Antonin Dolohov, a broken, sick man, she was spent.

She heaved herself towards her bathroom, stripping as she went. She would scrub her skin raw in the bath tonight to, hopefully, clean off the disgusting feeling that had attached itself to her since Azkaban. And try as she might, to focus on anything else, her thoughts found their way beack to a wizard across the country enjoying his own bath.

* * *

 _To be continued..._

* * *

 **Pchelka - little bee (Think like 'honey')**

 **Solnyshko - small sun ("You're my sunshine.")**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/n: I'm not even sure how many day's it's been, so I'm sorry. The best I can tell you is that since the last chapter I stopped working (by choice) but I didn't anticipate how hard leaving would be. I'm a nanny and I've watched my little nanny kid since he was 2 months old and he's over 3 now. So I've been dealing with a bit of depression. I suffer from depression, anxiety and PTSD, so sometimes life and my self-care takes over. I do apologize dear readers, I love you but self-care is a must. If you don't know what self-care is, please message me!**

 **Anyways, chapter 4 is being written, so never fear.**

 **Beta love to kanewolfe and gidgetmalfoy. If I missed a translation at the bottom please PM me!**

 **As _always_ your reviews are the currency for my work and the time spent by me writing, so please show your love!**

* * *

Hermione picked at the blueberry muffin on the table in front of her, unable to find her appetite. Her foot tapped a quick rhythm against the leg of the chair that she sat at in the small tea shop just outside of Diagon Alley. It was a common practice of hers to venture into the muggle shops within a few blocks of Diagon Alley, and enjoy her culture. There she wasn't Hermione Granger, War-Heroin. Outside of Diagon Alley, she was just Girl-with-Shopping-Problem.

After the war ended, the Ministry enacted several pieces of legislation, one of which was to gift every member of the Order of the Phoenix and Dumbledore's Army a small bit of money. For Hermione it was blood money, money that was hard bought with many lives. But for some, it allowed them to pick up the fragmented pieces of what they the war had left them. Hermione was the latter. After the war was over and her parents memory charm was successfully undone, she still had to make her way in the Wizarding World. While her parents had to attempt to pick up the pieces of a life they once had but had disappeared from. Hermione took the money, helping her parents as much as they would allow, and with the remaining bought her tiny loft above Obscurus Books. Now, with no mortgage to pay, she shamelessly spent her decent ministry income on shopping. Her bookshelves were overcrowded and she had lost count of the number of times that she had expanded her closet.

She was about to give her breakfast up as a lost cause when a thought occurred to her. Hermione wrapped her muffin back up, and headed back to the counter. Once she had her new order, she walked quickly back through the Leaky Cauldron, and to Diagon Alley's Apparation point.

She turned on the spot and laid her eyes on the beautiful seaside cottage. As she neared the door, her steps faltered. Why had she thought to come here, and with breakfast no less? She shook the thought from her head, her curls falling from her bun. She was just worried about him. He was very sick and needed her to check on him, plus this saved him the energy of feeding himself.

Hermione raised her hand and knocked twice. Listening carefully, she didn't hear any response to her knock or movement within. Waiting a minute, she knocked again, a little louder this time. Still no movement. Sighing heavily, she tried the knob. It opened for her and she pushed it open. Peeking inside, she was relieved to see the room empty.

"Mr. Dolohov?" she called to the house, hoping her voice would carry upstairs. As she took two steps inside the house, she heard a loud thud, followed by a quick yell, before she finally heard footsteps thundering down the hall towards the stairs.

Hermione stepped back towards the open door. When she caught sight of Antonin Dolohov her breath caught in her throat.

Antonin came running down the stairs, dressed only in grey pyjama bottoms, his chest completely exposed and his clean hair falling about his face. His eyes widened as he saw the witch, before he realised his state of undress. Pulling his new wand from his pocket, he summoned a plain white shirt and quickly pulled it on. As he took the last two steps, he noticed the redness that covered her cheeks. The sight brought a small smile to his lips, before he quickly schooled his features once again.

"I'm so sorry Mr. Dolohov. I knocked, it's just I...well I brought you breakfast," Hermione stuttered as she stood in the open door, unable to move from the spot. She licked her dry lips and swallowed. It had been a few years since her last date, and even longer since she had seen a man in that state of undress, and her body was betraying her mind in her reaction.

"Miss Granger, you have nothing to apologise for. I am sorry. I was having a bit of a lie in," Antonin explained, sitting down at the dining table.

Hermione's face fell as the guilt overtook her. "Of course you were having a lie in, you were just released from prison. I'm so sorry. I can come back. I don't know what came over me. I'm so sorry," the words tumbled from her mouth quickly, and her feet still hadn't moved from the doorway.

Antonin ran his hair through his curly hair, he took a deep breath, "I wasn't saying that to make you feel guilty, don't feel bad about showing up at this late hour."

Hermione nodded, still unable to erase the mental image of Antonin Dolohov shirtless. Her body had physically reacted to the sight in a way she hadn't felt in a very long time. His body still needed some meat on it, and his pyjama pants had hung low on his too-narrow hip bones. However, her traitorous mind had also taken in the smattering of chest hair that led all the way down under the pants. And no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't banish the thoughts of what was under those pants, the prominent bulge was seared into her mind.

Taking a step into the room, she wandlessly shut the door behind her, setting the two drinks on the table and the bag of muffins. "You seem to feel better today."

Antonin took stock, and realised that he had sprang out of bed at a speed he had been incapable of in months. "Now that you mention it, I do feel much better. Your friend prescribed some wonderful medications."

"Hannah is the best, top of her class when she studied to become a healer. She has a real talent for medicine," Hermione replied, and to her surprise the muffin before her suddenly looked very appetising and she dug in.

Silence fell around them for a few minutes while they ate their muffins and drank the tea.

Antonin was surprised that she had remembered how he preferred his tea. He closed his eyes as the warmth from the cup seeped into his veins, he stared at his long fingertips, following his skin to his hands, rugged and callused from years working manually, to his wrists. He could tell you exactly how many days, months and years they had been shackled. Unlike his last release, which wasn't legal, this time he was truly free of the them. Freedom, that's what he had before him now.

The concept was foreign and he had only just begun to scratch the surface of what this new life could become. While some dreams might never be realised and seemed near impossible at this point, he had, for the first time in his life, hope.

"May I ask a few questions?" Antonin began, breaking the silence around them.

Hermione nodded, her eyes raised to the man before her. She struggled to keep her eyes on his face. While, his shirt may have adequately hid his chest hair, it did nothing but perfectly accentuate the lean muscles beneath. Despite the fact that he looked too thin, his muscles had not lost their definition, and he looked positively fit.

"No one really explained why I've been released, and while I'm not complaining, I was given a life sentence," Antonin said slowly, his words careful. From the moment the guards had informed him that he was being released he struggled to think of the reason why. He had no redeeming qualities, and he knew he deserved the time he was sentenced to.

Her head titled to the side, pondering the man before her, "Mr. Dolohov were you not forced to become a death eater because of a blood oath your father coerced you into?"

His jaw clenched, unwilling to relive the memories that plagued him from that time in his life. The pain, thirty years later, was still too great. "But a blood oath does _not_ negate the crimes I've committed, and those are numerous."

Hermione could see the tightness around his eyes, and was overwhelmed by the fury and the palpable emotion the wizard was showing. His eyes showed her everything she needed to know. This man wasn't cold and thoughtless, but conflicted and struggling. She chose her words carefully before she replied, "No, it does not. Wounds inflicted will not heal because you were compelled to commit them. However, the difference is the intention. In this circumstance, you did not freely choose to join Voldemort," she paused for a moment when the wizard hissed but continued. "So you will receive early release from Azkaban. We will be reviewing all of your crimes, all of the crimes you witnessed and we would appreciate your help in the matter, but won't force you either. What you did while serving him, you are still guilty of, but the difference is joining willingly and by force, with your magic being threatened."

Antonin swallowed hard, his mind a flurry of activity, how much had she seen of that night? Who of the numerous people at his Uncle's house had been the one to produce the memory? But the thought at the forefront of his mind, what did the witch before him think of him now, knowing his hand had been forced? He shook his head, he couldn't allow that train of thought to continue. He still had committed unspeakable acts under the Dark Lord and it wouldn't do to forget that he deserved his sentence and more for his actions.

Hermione swallowed as she watched the wizard go from panicked to angry to distant in mere seconds. "I'm sorry Mr. Dolohov, I can't imagine those are pleasant memories."

Dolohov let out a cold chuckle, and ran his hands through his hair, "No, they are not. Why is the minister waiting to announce my release?"

"We have a leak within the Ministry, specifically, close to Harry and Kings. Your release would be big news, which is why we've leaked two sets of false information, that you've been moved to two different locations, neither of which are true. When the reporters show up to one of those locations we'll be able to find them," Hermione's voice was even, but it still angered her that someone within the Ministry was passing information to the Prophet.

Antonin watched as the ends of her hair bristled the longer she spoke, until the tips started sparking with static electricity. Moving his gaze to her eyes, he found she didn't seem to notice her hair. Was it something that common to the witch that she didn't even realise? He thought she must not have known how potent her magical energy must be for that to happen.

"What if they never share the information? What then?" Antonin asked, his curiosity getting the best of him.

Hermione bit her lower lip, "We hadn't really thought of that. I suppose we'll have to move forward and announce your release."

He nodded his head. He was a prisoner again, just under better living conditions, but he was not about to complain. He assumed that at some point he would indeed be free, to design a life without a megalomaniac running his life.

"One last question, well it's more of a favour," he said, his voice low and he fiddled with the cup in front of him. He had thought about it late last night, before the comfort of the bed had engulfed him.

Hermione gave him a small smile and nodded, "If it's within my power, it's yours."

Antonin couldn't help but smile, he had no doubt in the sincerity of the witch's words. It was such a change of pace from his whole life, where everyone operated under deceit and double meanings. "I would love some of the latest in depth charms books. I know I don't have much money, but whatever is in my Gringotts vault is yours. I'd love to get a job with charms eventually and I need to brush up on my skills, and test out this new wands abilities."

Hermione's small smile grew, to a full beam. It was such an innocent request, and really did give a good glimpse of the man sitting in front of her. His eyes were alight with excitement at just having his hands on new charms books. "I can run out tonight and grab you some, but I can't believe I forgot to tell you. The Ministry, well Kingsley, has set up an account for you, temporarily of course, until you can begin work that will cover your expenses. If you need anything, clothes, new robes, books, potion ingredients, anything, just let me know."

Antonin's eyes widened, and though he fought the reaction, a slow blush spread across his cheeks, "I couldn't take that money." His statement was simple but his voice was low and determined.

"Mr. Dolohov, you can't work right now and you've spent the last six years in Azkaban. You'll need to buy some things, I had to use some from your account to buy you the basics yesterday," Hermione watched as the stubborn man continued to stare at her.

"I will figure something out," he said, his jaw set as he refused to budge.

Hermione sighed, it was her lot in life to be surrounded by stubborn men. "How was the soup last night?"

Antonin's mouth watered slightly at the mere thought of her wonderful soup, "It was delicious, thank you for making it. Once I'm well, you won't need to cook for me."

Hermione's eyebrow rose in surprise, most men would love to have their meals cooked for them, at least her men. "Can you cook?"

He chuckled, the pleasant sound echoed around the small room, making Hermione's heart speed up, "I can, and I'm not horrible. My mother taught me when I was very young."

The corners of Hermione's mouth quirked up, "Lucky you, my mother tried, it never stuck. Soup and toast are about the only thing I can cook."

"I could always teach you. The things I know, they're fairly simple," he said before he could stop himself, the words tumbled from his lips. Antonin swallowed hard, he couldn't believe how comfortable he was with this witch.

Hermione looked down, trying to think of a reason to decline, but she came up with none. She wasn't sure what was prompting her sudden comfort around this man, but he did deserve a chance. "That would be nice, I'll take you up on it, if for no other reason than to learn not to poison people with my cooking."

Antonin laughed again, "I've heard you're the brightest witch of your age, I'm sure I can teach you not to kill people with food."

Hermione smirked, "It's a deal," she bit down on her lip, hoping her reddened cheeks weren't a dead giveaway. "Well Mr. Dolohov, I think you need another round of medication."

He couldn't help the pang in his chest when she reverted to calling him Mr. Dolohov, effectively distancing them again. "I'm feeling better, I don't know that they're necessary."

Hermione smiled, "I might agree but I value my life, and my dear friend Hannah would be inclined to threaten bodily injury if I neglected to treat you per her instructions."

Antonin smirked, nodding in understanding. He had his fair share of experience with bossy and demanding witches, and while the one before him tried very hard to appear low-maintenance, he thought he could see a glimmer of some high-maintenance tendencies. "Alright, do your worst."

Hermione couldn't help but smile wider, thankful he was being a decent patient. She grabbed the vials and reading Hannah's instructions carefully, picked the correct bottles. "It seems that she noted that your fever might be gone, but she wanted you to have another dose of the fever medicine, so you'll be loopy again."

Antonin groaned, he did not relish the loose tongue the medicine seemed to leave him with, especially around this witch. He chastised his younger self for not studying harder at Occlumency. "I beg your forgiveness in advance for whatever comes out of my mouth."

Hermione offered a small smile to the man before he grasped the small vial and chugged it down. Once he had taken the other potion Hannah had instructed, she turned and cleaned up the bag from their muffins and set the kettle on for some more tea.

Antonin stood, his gaze focused on the brunette curls he'd dreamt of for years, his feet moving automatically to stand behind her. Just as he was moving to lean forward, his witch turned.

"Mr. Dolohov!" Hermione screeched, her voice shrill and piercing. As she took a step back into the counter.

" _Solnyshko,_ _Ты такая красивая,_ " Antonin said, his voice almost a purr, and though he did step back from her, his eyes stayed locked on hers. His face so close, that she could make out the subtle flakes of honey intermixed with his chestnut irises.

Hermione swallowed, "Mr. Dolohov, you startled to me, but I think it's the medication. Why don't you come sit down on the sofa?"

"Will you sit with me, Kotyonok?" Antonin said, a devious grin on his face.

"No, I'll sit in the chair and we can talk. Will you talk with me, Mr. Dolohov?" Hermione asked, her voice timid, as she moved her body around his to go sit in the red stuffed chair.

"What did you want to talk about Kotyonok?" Antonin said as he walked to the couch, throwing himself down he lounged comfortably keeping his eyes on the brunette witch.

Hermione bit her lip, she wasn't sure what she should talk to him about when an idea struck her. It surprised her when she didn't even feel guilty for manipulating the man, she reasoned that he had needs and pride wasn't a luxury he should have right now. "Why don't you tell me what other things you need or want that you don't want to use Ministry money for?"

"Did you know, Pchelka, that I loved Muggle clothing? Hate the people, but they seem to have a penchant for fashion. I especially love jeans. So much more comfortable and useful than trousers. Robes tend to get in the way, and I love the way jeans and a tshirt fits. Before, I assumed the role as a Death Eater and the Dark Lord took over my _fucking_ life, I had loads of Muggle tshirts, the ones for their musicians had the best designs." Antonin stopped, taking a deep breath as he lost himself in memories. "You know what else no one knows about the big, bad Death Eater Antonin Dolohov?" Hermione smirked when he roared his name. "They don't know that I love charms, inventing spells is my specialty, something you know all too well."

Antonin sighed, moving his gaze from her eyes to glance over her body, and the scar from his curse tingled under the scrutiny. "You know I never meant to hurt you, Pchelka. No one will ever believe that though. It took me years to figure it out. You surprised me, Merlin, did you ever. The years I spent in Azkaban, I thought about it, and no one, not a single person, ever managed to get a spell on me that I wasn't anticipating. Except you, you bright, wicked girl, you silenced me and as I stared at you, I realised I didn't want you to get hurt in the mayhem, and with too many of my _brothers_ around you would. So I threw my выводить из строя at you. I heard it not only made you unconscious but cut your body, I'm sorry. It was intended to be spoken aloud, I think the effects changed when I was silenced."

Hermione tried to swallow past her dry throat. "You-you didn't try to kill me?"

"Try to kill you, I never tried to kill witches or wizards if I could help it. Magical blood is too precious, and to my recollection, I have yet to kill any witch or wizard," Antonin explained everything as though Hermione's world wasn't suddenly tilting on its axis.

* * *

 _To be continued..._

* * *

Kotyonok - _Kitten_

Pchelka - _little bee (think "honey")_

шрамами сна - _Scarred Sleep_

Solnyshko, Ты такая красивая - Little Sun, you are so beautiful.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/n: Last week I forgot to include the translation for the spell that Antonin had used on Hermione at the Ministry, so sorry.**

 **выводить из строя - incapacitate**

 **In my mind, Antonin desired to never harm a magical person, let alone a child, so he would have invented a spell that would look worse than Stupefy. Obviously he couldn't use it all the time, otherwise Voldy would become wise to what he was doing, but in this instance my Antonin would have never wanted to harm Hermione.**

 **Thank you Shaya for the wonderful name for the charms book.  
**

 **So much beta love to GidgetMalfoy & KaneWolfe**

 **As always your reviews are my currency, and while I continue to battle depression they are wonderful, and I want to thank you all for your incredibly kind and thoughtful words. You all mean the world to me, thank you.**

* * *

Hermione tilted her head to the side, while the wizard before her leaned further back into the couch. "Mr. Dolohov, are you saying that you've never killed a witch or wizard? How is that possible? You were in Azkaban for murder charges."

"I think you'll find that I was actually in Azkaban under the charge of using unforgivables, though my memory might be wrong. To answer your question, no I've never killed a witch or wizard?" Antonin said, his voice still loud and carrying, in his medicated state.

"What about Gideon and Fabian Prewett?" Hermione's brain was running wild, and her palms had begun to sweat, if he had truly never committed murder this could change everything.

"Nope, I was knocked unconscious during the fight, and when I came to the Ministry was swarming around. I was arrested and charged with murder. The Prewetts were dead, and the Ministry sentenced me with proof that my wand had fired the curses, but I have no idea what happened after I was knocked out." Antonin's voice even as though he were reciting a recipe.

Hermione bit down on her bottom lip, suddenly running through his case file in her head. She knew the wand evidence had been the only proof of the Prewett's murders, that and eyewitness testimony of him being at the scene. It just didn't make sense that they hadn't investigated further. On top of that, his wording was still bothering her, so carefully in a low voice she asked, "Mr. Dolohov, you said you've never killed a witch or wizard, does that mean you've killed muggles?"

Antonin's hard laugh cut through the quiet room, before his brown eyes locked onto hers. "Only two muggles, and they deserved every ounce of suffering they received."

Hermione stood up quickly, "Why? Because they were muggles?" She hadn't been around anyone in the years since the Battle who openly talked about muggles that way, let alone in her company. Her reputation as the war heroine who happened to be a muggle born was enough to silence most people.

Antonin stood up, slower and more calculated than she had, his steps carefully measured he stood in front of her. With only a few inches between their bodies he looked down at her. "No, Pchelka, because they deserved it. I was too late, and I caught them murdering a little girl, so I let the rage overtake me and I killed them."

Hermione continued to stare into his eyes, her anger forgotten. She blinked a few times, finally letting go of the breath she was holding, her voice low she asked, "Do you hate muggles, Antonin?"

"I used to, Pchelka, but I've had quite a few years to appreciate the brilliant things they've provided the wizarding world," he said. His voice low and husky as he pushed a curled tendril out of her face and tucked it behind her ear.

* * *

Antonin woke early the following Tuesday, his wand gripped tightly in his hand as he heard footsteps a floor below. It had been the snap of the door shutting that had woken him, and made him alert. Years of living in fear of Death Eaters who might want to kill him, and the Ministry who was out to capture him set him on edge, even with his new freedom.

Antonin quietly crawled from between the sheets of the large bed, thankful that, for as old as this house was, the floors were sturdy and didn't creak. As he made his way from his room to the hallway, he heard a rustling noise but nothing else.

Slowly he crept down the stairs, his body relaxing when he saw his witch's long curls. He put the Aspen wand back into the pocket of his pyjama pants and cleared his throat.

Hermione screamed turning on the spot with her wand pointed at Antonin Dolohov, as though he had broken into her house, not the other way around. Behind her on the large dining table were boxes of shopping bags.

She took deep, steadying breaths forcing her heart to slow down, as it beat a fast rhythm. "Mr. Dolohov, you startled me. I'm sorry."

"Miss Granger, I didn't expect you this early, I'm sorry to have startled you."

Hermione looked away, trying to ignore his shirtless figure, again, as though the man before her hadn't appeared in her dreams in the days since Saturday. After she had hastily left his house after his admission, she had cleaned her entire flat. She had even scrubbed areas that hadn't been seen in years, and when there was nothing left to clean had turned on movies as distraction. She imposed her company on Harry and Hannah earlier than expected on Sunday and ended up spending most of the day with them. When it was time to go back to her extremely tidy flat, she once again tried to allow movies to keep her brain from thinking too much of the wizard who hid in his castle by the sea.

Monday's work day involved more meetings than she normally took, as she was trying to empty her workload onto her coworkers, at Kingsley's request, and it left her no time to research Antonin's claims from Saturday. When six struck, she heaved a frustrated sigh, knowing she had accomplished nothing in the way of finding out if Antonin Dolohov was as innocent as he had said. She instead made her way into Diagon Alley, purchasing as many Advanced Charms books that she could find, before making her way to Muggle London. Once there, she relied on his old pyjama pants size as an approximate fit for the jeans and tshirts she found for him.

"I, uh, well, I came early to drop off these." Hermione muttered, moving away from the table as he came closer to inspect the parcels.

"What is all of this Miss Granger?" Antonin asked, his voice confused, but he still smiled at her, happier than he cared to admit at seeing her.

"The things you wanted, the sizes might need adjustment but you said you were handy with charms." Hermione finally raised her gaze to the man as he watched her curiously.

Antonin narrowed his eyes in confusion before recollection of the conversation they had shared on Saturday when he was out of it from the fever medicine raced through his mind. After the medicine had subsided he had woken on the couch and watched her make more soup, and assumed that nothing significant had happened. He cursed under his breath, causing the witch to quirk an eyebrow at him. "Miss Granger it was very kind of you to buy these things, but I don't have the money. And all of those admissions about things I wanted were made under duress."

Hermione felt a moment of guilt before she pushed it down and forced herself not to roll her eyes, "You do, Mr. Dolohov, it's the money the Ministry has set up for you until you can begin working."

Antonin growled, "I won't use that money, I have my own."

Hermione's heart rate increased. "Your money barely paid for two of the charms books. You need clothes, all you have are decade old robes and a few meager possessions. You will need to purchase things to keep yourself busy in this place."

Antonin narrowed his gaze at the fiery witch, he hid his embarrassment at his impoverishment with anger. "Then take it all back, every last bit of it. I'll figure something out. But I'll keep the two books."

Hermione pulled herself up to her full height and thundered, "I will not take these things back you stubborn man. I spent hours shopping for the right kind of shirts, trying to make sure they had what you described you liked. The money is for you, and I cannot understand why you can't accept some help until you're allowed to make your own way."

"I don't need to owe anyone anything." They stood face to face, less than six inches between them, as he stared down at her. He could appreciate the fire in her eyes, and the crackle of magic coming off the tips of her curls. His mind recalled in perfect clarity the same stance from Saturday when he touched her hair. And his body was reacting in the same maddening way, by being aroused in the presence of this stubborn witch.

"You _won't_ owe anyone anything, it's a fund for _you_. It's not a loan," Hermione said, her voice low and dangerous.

Antonin balled up his fists, "Fine," he growled, lowering his face even closer to her's. "I'll keep it all, but only because you bought it for me, Pchelka. Only for you." He turned on his heel and walked up the stairs, leaving her by the dining table.

Hermione let out a cry of frustration loud enough to be heard upstairs before she mimicked his movements and stomped to the door. Slamming it behind her she turned on the spot, arriving in the lobby of the Ministry. As she made her way to her office, she only offered grimaces to her coworkers who tried to speak with her along the way.

As she sat down at her desk, shuffling papers around in the pretense of being busy she ran over the early morning in her mind. She had intended to drop the packages without being seen, much like a house-elf. Not only had the wizard heard her, but nearly frightened her out of her skin when he appeared shirtless at the bottom of the stairs, again. She hated her traitorous mind for recalling in perfect detail the trail of hair that went under his pyjama pants, and the pale skin covering the taut muscles of his chest and abdomen.

And what did he mean when he said 'only for her?' She couldn't help the blush spread across her cheeks, it had been years since she felt significant to a man, any man. Hermione sighed, this was not a man she should be getting attached to. This man had aimed his wand at her on multiple occasions. Even with his admission, he was still a registered Death Eater, and she still wasn't sure if he was trustworthy. She carefully banished the thoughts, and spent the rest of her work day attempting to work.

* * *

Across the country, Antonin shut off the water to the shower. A lot of his previous frustrations, both physical and mental, were making their way down the drain. Wrapping a towel around his hips, he smirked recalling Hermione's face when she had seen him shirtless in only this towel. Walking downstairs he made his way over to the dining table, which was full of wrapped parcels, shopping bags and even a bagged muffin. He smiled, overwhelmed by the gesture. Even if he had no desire to actually accept what sat on his table. Antonin opened the muffin bag, and his smile grew when he saw that she had brought him, a blueberry muffin, his favorite.

His fingers traced over the wrapped parcels, obviously from Flourish and Blotts, and what he knew would be advanced charms books. He had to hand it to the brunette witch, she had used the situation to her advantage. In a way that was almost Slytherin, but he knew that just showed how she truly was the Brightest Witch of Her Age. The first night when he had unpacked his dismal belongings that hadn't been confiscated by the Ministry, he had been unsure what to do about clothing. With only two sets of robes, one set of trousers, his favorite grey pyjamas, and a few shirts, he had been trying to figure out how to buy clothing with no money.

Twenty minutes later his dining table was covered in tissue paper, parcel paper and an entire wardrobe of clothing. He smirked at some of the tshirts she had found for him. He couldn't even find it within himself to be mad at the witch anymore. He gathered all of his new clothes into his arms, and took them upstairs. He carefully put everything away before grabbing a soft grey shirt and new jeans, and he headed back downstairs.

He set the kettle on the hob, needing a large mug of Earl Grey to shake off the cloud he already felt brewing for this day. He was thrilled at the attention she had paid him, and his mind was a whirlwind just trying to figure out her motivation. But his pride was currently being stomped on just wearing the clothes and looking down at the neat stack of books that he had opened and put into order by author.

Antonin sat in near silence until the kettle began whistling. He stood up to prepare a cup with a dash of firewhiskey to take the edge off. Seated once again, he flipped open the front covers of all the new charms books one by one, until he sighed in frustration and shut them all again. The witch really was incredibly detail oriented, and while he could see the similarities between himself and the clever witch, it annoyed him. She had gone so far as to write his name into "This Book is Property of" label of each book in, what he would bet a galleon he didn't even own, everlasting ink.

This witch would surely be the death of him. Her stubbornness was maddening and endearing simultaneously, but her fire and courage took his breath away and made him want to pull his hair out at the root. Picking up _Challenging Charms for Clever Casters_ , and smirking at the title, he settled down onto the couch with his mug and blueberry muffin.

Antonin's perusal of the first charms book took him into the late afternoon, when the theory of area of effect charms gave him an idea. He sat the book down quickly on the coffee table, and dashed up the stairs to his box of meager possessions. Pushing aside the dismal clothes, and other books he grasped the two leather bound notebooks on the bottom of the box. Sitting down on the bed, he flipped through them twice before he gave up and sighed heavily.

Before he was placed in Azkaban the first time, he had spent much of his time in the Dark Lord's service trying to develop complex charms and spells for his Lord's use. He had studied an area of effect spells and had found an intricate wand movement that seemed to aid in the creation of new charms. However, that detailed information and research was in the other leather bound notebook that was missing from this box.

Antonin could think of only two places that that notebook could be, and before he could give it a second thought he was dashing down the stairs and out of the front door. Once he felt the wards melt around him, he spun on the spot and stood before the small cottage that had once belonged to Gideon and Fabian Prewett, and the place where Antonin's freedom had been lost.

Like many houses from the war, this one had been preserved and turned into a sort of memorial for the Prewett Brothers. Pulling the cloak he had quickly grabbed tighter around him, he steeled his resolve and set off for the tiny cottage.

He opened the gate quietly, thanking Merlin that the tiny property didn't have wards on it. The yard seemed manicured and well maintained and he pondered if that was because someone came to care for it, or a magical stasis charm on the property. When he pushed against the front door, he was pleased to find that it also remained open. The room looked exactly as it had the first moment he had set foot in the cottage, before the Prewett brother's died, and the wand fights damaged the interior of the small sitting room.

Antonin raised his wand and muttered a quick summoning charm for his lost notebook. His eyes moved around the small room, and quickly a sense of unease settled over him. As he focused on the low embers still red in the hearth, he noticed an open book on the small table near a chair. As he was turning to leave, two movements happened simultaneously, the leather bound notebook hurtled toward him, which he caught quickly in his hand, and the door behind him swung shut with a snap.

"I knew you would come back here, Dolohov, to enjoy the sight of where you killed them." A cold, disembodied voice called from somewhere opposite him.

Antonin turned, raising his wand, his once honed battle reflexes immediately engaging. He spun slowly trying to find the person who had spoke. "I just came here for my notebook."

"You killed _him,_ Dolohov," the voice cried, angry and bitter.

"I didn't-," Antonin's words were cut off by a loud cry, and he was hit.

Blood pouring from his side, he threw up a shield charm, and made his way towards the door as more hex's came towards him. He reached a hand behind him, trying the handle, which blessedly opened, before he ducked around the side of the house.

In the seconds it took him to press his wand tip to the ring on his hand, he was hit again with a more powerful _Sectumsepra_ than before. He could feel the cuts along his chest and legs, and he fell down from the pain. Raising his wand again with a shield charm. At his vantage, with a deep cut across his forehead, and blood streaming into his eyes he couldn't see his attacker.

The woman's screams kept coming, as she bared down onto Antonin, his shield charm starting to weaken as the blood seeped from his body, draining him of his strength.

Hermione stared down at the ring on her right hand, feeling the distinct burn of being called. Grabbing her wand from her desktop, she ran as fast as her legs could carry her. Down the hallway, past Aurors who yelled after her, to the designated Apparation point. Closing her eyes, she concentrated on Antonin, his chiseled chest and dark brown eyes, and spun on the spot.

Opening her eyes, she caught sight of a woman shrouded in a dark cloak, over her whole body and covering her face. A wand held tightly in her hand as she fired curses at Antonin who's shield finally broke, and Hermione screamed.

Firing off her own hex she caught the women in the shoulder before the women looked in her direction and spun on the spot. Hermione cast an immediate bubble shield over herself as she ran the three feet to Antonin, his wand at his side, having fallen from his hand.

"Antonin? Antonin!" Hermione wrapped her hands under his head, her wand moving over his body, healing charms stitching him back up.

Antonin's face was covered in blood, and his eyes remained closed, but his lips moved, "Pchelka, you came for me."

"Of course I came, Antonin, what happened?" Hermione looked down at the wounds, that had begun to stitch themselves when they suddenly opened back up again, more blood pouring from his body. She raised her eyes to his face, which had suddenly laxed, his breathing shallow. Pulling him into her arms, she shook him, to no effect.

Hermione screamed, "Antonin! Antonin hold on."

* * *

 _To be continued..._


	5. Chapter 5

**A/n: This chapter came along A LOT faster then the previous have, yay! I think my depression is finally being controlled, also yay!**

 **6 is being written as we speak, and hopefully I'll have that done this week (but as always please don't hold me to it!**

 **A lot of your reviews for the last chapter were awesome. I love how you all tended to guess the same woman as Antonin's attacker, but I won't give anything away, sorry.**

 **Tons of beta love, as always, to gidgetmalfoy and kanewolfe. Who love me hard and cheer me even harder.**

 **Please leave lots of love for this chapter, it's short but _powerful_. **

* * *

Hermione sat on the edge of her seat looking at Antonin. Unconscious and pale, she couldn't help gnawing on her lip as she watched him. Even with Harry and Hannah's attempts to send her home she wouldn't budge. Frankly, she couldn't understand the need to stay with him, but she knew she wasn't leaving until he woke up.

When she had arrived at the little cottage, thanking Merlin for the charmed ring on her finger, to see Antonin being attacked and bleeding profusely, she had rushed to action. First protecting Antonin and responding to his attacker in kind. Second attempting to heal Antonin which proved to be incredibly ineffective, something the healers were stumped over for the first 6 hours while he was given copious amounts of blood-replenishing potion until they could close the _Sectumsepra_ wounds covering his body.

Once he was finally stable, she rested, closing her eyes, but not moving from her watch at his side. The worry and fear overwhelming, and the idea that his attacker might just come back to finish him off.

Hermione had awoke in the wee hours of the morning to find Antonin's dark brown eyes locked on hers. Blinking rapidly to clear the sleep from her eyes, she turned to fully face him.

"Hi," she said, her voice low, barely a whisper in the quiet room.

Antonin looked over the small witch before him, still wearing the robes she had worn the previous morning when they had yelled at each other. Her hair was high on her head in a beautiful mess of curls, and her eyes were heavy with sleep. He swallowed before he croaked, "Hi."

Hermione tilted her head to the side, looking at him carefully. "I'm really really angry with you right now, but I'm too tired to deal with you right now."

"I'm sorry, Miss Granger." Antonin watched her as she nodded, and sat further back in her chair. "May I ask why you're here."

"You may ask," Hermione said, before a smirk broke over her lips. "I guess I'm worried about you."

"Why are you worried about me?" Antonin asked before he could stop himself, his heart hammering a strong beat against his ribs.

Hermione bit down on her lower lip, convinced that one day she would gnaw it right off. She let go of her lip, fixing him with a serious look. "I don't know, maybe I don't want anything to happen to you."

Antonin's heart stuttered, skipping a beat like a young school girl, and before he could stop himself he smiled widely.

"I'm going to go get the nurse and let her know you're awake. I'll be right back." Hermione said, standing before the grin on her face was noticed. "By the way, I found that book beside you when you passed out. I grabbed it before we apparated." She nodded towards the leather journal on the table beside him.

The rest of the day was spent with Hermione stubbornly removing the journal from his hands every time someone came into see him. He would cry out in frustration and they would fall into playful banter while he tried to convince her to give it back to him.

"You stubborn witch, it's not even yours. And I am paying attention to what they have to say." Antonin said, grinding his teeth in frustration. He had just gotten to a good part in his notes about charms.

"I'm just ensuring that you give them _all_ of your attention." Hermione said, her voice clearly demonstrating how unrelenting she would be about this.

By mid-afternoon he sat before Harry Potter and Kingsley Shacklebolt to explain what had happened, in as much detail that he could provide, before they extracted the memory from him. The Minister proceeded to explain how incredibly reckless his actions were, and that while they looked into the matter further that he was no longer allowed to leave his cottage.

"Harry, do you think you could stay for a few more minutes? I'm going to run home, feed Crooks and change clothes." Hermione said, standing up from the chair she had occupied for the last day and a half.

"Of course," Harry said as he took her seat.

Antonin watched from the hospital bed as the Minister and Hermione left, having a friendly conversation. He wondered how his witch became so close to someone of power.

"It's not because she's a war heroine, they fought side by side multiple times during the war. Kingsley also helped her get her parents back," Harry said from the side, his green eyes carefully observing Antonin. It had been years since a person's behavior went unnoticed by him. He had spent too many years as an Auror.

Antonin looked at the Boy Who Lived, a child the first time he had ever laid eyes on him, now an Auror, Head of his department, and Hermione's best friend. He said nothing, wishing he could cast a Notice-Me-Not and escape from Harry's knowing gaze.

"Hermione is my best friend, and above all I trust her. If she wants to sit at your bedside and make sure you're ok, instead of assigning an auror team to your door, who am I to stop her? You seem to be feeling the same unknown feelings for her as she is for you, just don't hurt her. If she doesn't hex you into oblivion, you'll find almost every corner of this country unforgiving." Harry finished his warning with a flourish of his wand as he summoned a copy of the Prophet to him. Opening it up, he hid behind it, effectively shutting off communication.

Antonin blinked a few times, completely unaware of what to say. His mouth was dry, forbidding him from speaking either way. He stared at the headline of the Prophet, where Harry Potter's head had been. A moving picture of his own face, an old mugshot, graced the cover underneath the headline: "Antonin Dolohov Released from Azkaban, Ministry Quiet."

He knew between his attack and the fact that his release had been leaked, his witch was now stressed beyond belief, and it was all his fault. He longed to go back to his tiny cottage, and possibly hex a few objects just to take his rage out on something. It had been years since he had felt his life was so outside of his control. Thirty years if his math was correct.

The minutes stretched by as they waited for Hermione to return and interrupt the silence that had descended around them. Antonin had summoned his journal back to him, and was carefully reading his detailed notes on area of effect charms when the door opened and his curly haired witch came strolling back in.

Antonin's mouth dried out again at the sight of her in comfortable muggle attire. Every other time he had seen her she'd been dressed in modern muggle business clothing and long witch's robes, but here she stood her hair swept into a large bun on her head, dark jeans and a tight maroon sweater. He truly couldn't imagine a more beautiful look.

"Goodness, I love hot showers," she sighed as she walked over to Harry who folded the prophet and left it on the table.

Antonin watched as they exchanged a few more comments and hugged before Harry left to go deal with a crisis at the Ministry.

Hermione smiled at Antonin before she settled back into the chair to his side. "Did Hannah come back in with any news while I was gone?"

"No," Antonin replied simply as he tried to think of something other than her in the tight maroon sweater. His voice was quiet when he asked, "What's a Crooks?"

"What?" Hermione said looking up at him, her bright brown eyes finding his.

"What is a Crooks? You said you were going to go feed a Crooks." Antonin explained.

"Oh, that's my half-kneazle, Crookshanks. I've had him since third year," Hermione smiled, clearly happy to talk about her orange fluff ball.

"Ah, I've only ever seen full kneazles, smart creatures," Antonin said, as he sat down the journal on his lap.

"He is very smart. Did you have any familiars before you went to Azkaban?" Hermione asked curiously.

"I was always a cat person, but never owned one myself. My parents had one when I was younger," Antonin said, thinking of his mom and his old cat Kasina.

The rest of the afternoon passed with them making some conversation about the charms he was reading up on. When it was nearly eight that evening Antonin finally looked up at Hermione getting comfortable in the chair beside his bed.

"Why don't you go home? You don't need to stay with me," Antonin said, as his stomach clenched uncomfortably.

"Yes, I do. I'm in charge of you until your probation is up in a year. So, until then I'm to make sure you don't get hurt," Hermione said her voice clear and matter of factly.

"You do remember the many, many duels I was in throughout my life? I know how to defend myself," Antonin said.

"Yes, I know, but we don't know who attacked you. And until we do, I'll remain here to make sure you're safe, till we can get you moved home," Hermione said, finally sighing and standing up. She pulled out her wand and quickly transfigured the small chair to a flat bed, and settled down.

"Why do you care if I get attacked again, they have security here?" Antonin asked, his voice low as his heart raced.

Hermione bit her lip, she had been asking herself that same question for the past 36 hours, unable to reason why she cared that she be the one to protect him. She shrugged her shoulders, "Just want to make sure the job is done correctly." As Hermione laid down on the small bed, her body turned away from him, she sighed. She knew logically that you couldn't help who you developed feelings for, but after his attack she was overwhelmed by the sense of protectiveness she felt for the ex-Death Eater.

She had spent much of the twenty four hours he was unconscious studying his features, and had finally admitted that she found him very attractive. Especially now that he'd started putting on a little weight since his stay in Azkaban. She had also spent most of the evening wrestling with how worried she was for Antonin. The image of him laying on the ground bleeding out was something she was sure she wouldn't forget for a long time.

Antonin turned over, smiling and with thoughts of the curly haired witch beside him he fell asleep.

* * *

By the next morning Antonin was beside himself, furious at being confined to the bed, to this room, to this very hospital.

"Send me home witch, I'm fine." He growled at the blonde before him, his gaze narrowed.

"I'm going to give you a few more blood replenishing potions before I even _think_ about that, Mr. Dolohov. And if you're not a good patient, I'll knock you out and allow you to heal _that_ way," Hannah grinned evilly at the wizard pouting in the bed.

Antonin turned his gaze from her to the brunette witch at his side, she smirked at him. "I told you to behave, or Hannah will actually knock you out to make sure you're more compliant."

He couldn't believe his luck, waking up to find that he was not only laying in a hospital bed, being cared for by his stubborn witch. However, having to deal with his healer, who was an equally stubborn witch, was exacerbating. "I want out of this bed. I'm fine!"

"You can get out of the bed and walk around your room, but you're to stay in this room. That's final." Hannah said fixing him with a glare before she winked at Hermione and left the room.

"Why can't you just apparate back to the cottage and grab a book or something, there is _nothing_ to do in this tiny room." He growled in the direction of Hermione.

"Because, I'm not letting you out of my sight, you moron." Hermione raised one eyebrow, challenging him to contest her assessment.

Antonin sighed, giving up. He had tried in vain for the last twenty four hours to get out of the room, but his witch wasn't one to relent. And with the threats of restraints and sticking charms, he had no choice but to relent. He sank deeper into the bed, and fixed her with a raised eyebrow of his own before she huffed and gave him his notebook back.

"Stubborn wizard," Hermione muttered as she handed over the leather journal to Antonin.

"Stubborn witch," Antonin said, smirking as his fingers closed over the soft leather. He had been so relieved that the book was still in his possession when he awoke twenty four hours ago, that he had spent much of the time laying in the bed memorizing the notes and ideas he had thought up over two decades ago.

Around dinner time the door to his room opened again and Hannah swept into the room, with a smile on her face. "Well Mr. Dolohov, your last test was good, so one more test and if you're still holding up we can send you home."

Antonin smiled as her wand moved over his body leaving him with tingles over his flesh. His smile grew when she declared him healthy enough to return home.

Hermione created a portkey from an old vial of pain potion, and turned when he got dressed. With Hannah's firm instructions to continue applying dittany and come back if a fever set in, they held onto the vial as it pulled them by their navels.

Antonin took a deep breath of the sea air and turned to smile at Hermione. Her eyes were bright and her cheeks flushed. He was certain she had never looked more beautiful in her life.

"Thank you for taking such good care of me," he breathed, taking a step towards her, closing the distance between them.

Hermione swallowed, craning her neck to look up into his deep brown eyes. "It uh...well you were...and I just wanted to-," her words cut off when his lips crashed on hers. In that second Hermione was overwhelmed by his soft lips and the earthy masculine scent that seemed to be completely Antonin. When he pulled away, his lips quirked in a small smile, she noticed his brown eyes and turned even darker.

She took a step backwards, suddenly aware of his eyes and his hand that had been on her back. "I...I think...I need to go." Hermione turned and ran the ten feet to the edge of the wards and spun on the spot. The last thing she saw before she disappeared was Antonin's eyes narrowed in concern, and his flushed cheeks.

Her feet slammed into the floor of her flat, her heart hammering against her chest. All she could think was how badly she wanted to turn again, go back, and finish that kiss. That's when she noticed the blood drops on her floor.

* * *

 _To be continued..._


	6. Chapter 6

**A/n: I am over joyed that my updates are coming sooner then they had been.**

 **So many of you thought of the same person as the potential attacker, but it won't be for awhile that we find out who it is, our couple has a lot to do before then.**

 **I want to thank you for all your continued love, and your reviews just make me so incredibly happy, so please keep them coming.**

 **Huge beta hugs to gidgetmalfoy and kanewolfe for their unwavering love and support.**

* * *

Hermione raised her wand high above her head, casting a quiet lumos, she took in the sight of her dark flat. Most of her chairs were upended, the bookshelves knocked over, and her scrolls and parchment strewn around the floors. It wasn't the sight of her flat in complete disarray that had her on edge, it was the droplets of blood that seemed to lead towards her bedroom.

She cast a quick patronus, speaking quietly to her otter twice, calling for Harry and Kingsley to come quickly, before she set off towards her bedroom. Hermione listened closely to the sounds of her tiny flat, searching for anything that didn't belong. With every noise accounted for, she reached for her bedroom doors handle maintaining a tight grip on her wand.

In one quick movement she cast a shield charm as she flung open the door. Her eyes searched the tiny room, dominated by her large bed and many more bookshelves which all had her books haphazardly thrown about.

"Homenum Revelio," Hermione breathed. Her voice as low as possible, never having mastered this spell as a nonverbal. When nothing appeared, she lowered her shield and looked around the room.

Hermione walked forward towards one of her books that had a large black hole burned through the cover. Clearly it had taken the anger from the person who had ransacked her flat. She had just sat the book back down on the floor when she heard a tiny meow from her wardrobe.

Her heart stopped for a moment when she realized she had forgotten to look for Crookshanks. She ran to the door of her wardrobe and threw it open. Huddled on the bottom in the corner was her half-kneazle, sporting a dark red gash across his back leg and a smaller one down his face.

"Crooks," Hermione gasped, her voice pleading as she reached forward for the bundle of fur. Crookshanks went into her arms willingly, hissing slightly when she brushed against the cut on his leg.

"Hermione!" she heard, the shout coming from her sitting room.

"In here!" she called back, and within seconds Harry and Kingsley, followed by Hannah, flew into the room, wands raised.

"What happened?" Harry asked, looking around the room his green eyes locking onto the sight of Hermione holding her ginger cat.

"I came home, and saw blood. Then I saw the apartment like this. No one was here when I got here, just Crooks. He's been attacked as well," Hermione said, standing up and walking towards her bed. She carefully laid her cat down on the soft comforter, and pulling out her wand cast a healing charm on his leg and face. Miraculously the gashes began to stitch themselves together, stopping the bleeding.

"Here, I have some dittany," Hannah said stepping around her husband towards Hermione. Sitting on the opposite end of the bed, she carefully applied dittany to Crookshanks leg, making the deep red mark fade to a pale light pink.

"Thank you Hannah," Hermione said. Her hand moved automatically as she rubbed Crook's head.

"I want a full investigation into this, and Dolohov's attacks. I can't be sure they're related, but it's too much of a coincidence," Kingsley said, walking around the small bedroom looking everywhere.

"I'll take lead, and pick a team when I get back to the office," Harry offered, as Kingsley nodded in agreement.

"Hermione, I want to get you to a safe house. I don't want you staying here-" Kingsley raised his voice, cutting Hermione off, "or with someone who's known to be tied to you." Kingsley looked at her carefully, his expression resolute.

Hermione narrowed her gaze at Kingsley, "I do _not_ need to be babysat."

"I agree with Kings, 'Mione. Someone broke into your flat, injured Crooks, and this is on the tail end of Dolohov's attack. There are many people we love that would be personally upset with Dolohov's release and until we can find this person, it's best if you stay put." Harry said, his green eyes trained on Hermione, trying to appear comforting. "I suggest maybe staying with Dolohov."

Hermione blinked rapidly, unable to comprehend what her best friend had just said. "Excuse me? _Why_ would I stay with Dolohov?"

"His location is only known to the people in this room, no one would think to look for you there, and even if they did, they couldn't find you. Hermione, you're secret keeper, even if someone imperiused one of us, we couldn't give them your location." Harry stated, hoping his logic would hold up against Hermione.

"'Mione, I know you hate the idea but it's probably the best," Hannah added, her voice low. She had started petting Crooks who definitely looked worse for wear.

Hermione bit her lip, torn between wanting to stay somewhere safe and not wanting to relive her moment of cowardice when she fled after their brief kiss. She was also furious that someone would invade the privacy of her flat and injure her cat. The last thing she wanted was to be sidelined by Harry and Kingsley, but she wasn't foolish either, and had no desire to head directly into the fray with a large target on her back.

Sighing deeply, she nodded her consent. "But I will not be taken off the case. I want a copy of everything! I want photos, and most of all I want a copy of every single shred of evidence of Dolohov's case files. They can be delivered to me at his cottage, because I'm assuming you won't let me near the Ministry either?"

Kingsley smiled. "No, you're officially on leave, all your mail will delivered and sorted at the Ministry, and I'll have those files to you by tomorrow. I'm going to step out and send a patronus to Dolohov and an owl to the Ministry. Pack a bag, but leave as much of this mess as possible for Harry's team to examine."

Thirty minutes later Hermione stood in her kitchen with a small bag filled with a week's worth of clothes and Crookshanks in his preferred basket. She looked around the disheveled room with deep sadness. It had been a long time since she had felt violated, let alone in the small flat she felt most at home in. Her eyes fell on Harry and Hannah who moved around the room with sharp eyes, examining the specific items that bore the most damage.

Kingsley walked in from her bedroom, and his face fell as his deep brown eyes found Hermione. When he had requested that she take on the job of parole officer for Antonin Dolohov, he hadn't thought for a moment that it would put her in harm's way. Now she stood in her flat, a sea of chaos, her privacy and safety violated, and ready to walk away to stay with someone who had attacked her on multiple occasions. He admired the witch for her courage. She was a true Gryffindor through and through, but he worried that he had overtaxed her.

"Hermione, we can make other accommodations. I don't want you to feel uncomfortable," Kingsley said, his voice soft when he had neared her.

Hermione raised her wide eyes to his, she hadn't noticed him move across the sitting room. Her shoulders raised up as she shrugged, "No Kings, it's fine. It is probably the safest place in the country for me, right now."

Kingsley nodded before he wrapped his large arms around her petite form and hugged her tightly. In the years since the war, his love for her had only grown, and with no children of his own regarded her and Harry as his own, as did his husband Michael.

"When this is all over, I want you to take a long vacation," his voice louder as he let her go, keeping his hands on her shoulders.

Hermione smiled and nodded. "Well, are we ready?"

Kingsley nodded in affirmation. Letting go of her, and with a quick flourish of his wand, he summoned his spectral lynx and murmured a message to the inquisitive animal before it disappeared.

Harry and Hannah made their way over to Hermione and Kingsley, "We'll get this all sorted, 'Mione, soon too. Owl if you need anything," Harry said as he hugged his best friend.

Hannah moved forward and wrapped her in a tight hug. "I'm going to come by tomorrow and bring some necessities. Owl me tonight if you need anything from the store. I'll go before I come over."

Hermione smiled at her two friends, "Thank you both. I'm sure I'll be fine, but don't be strangers. Harry, please get me those files as soon as you can. I'm going to work the case as much as I can... from a distance."

Harry nodded, his face lighting up with a warm smile. Hermione took one final look around her flat before she tucked her arm in the crook of Kingsley's offered arm. She offered Kingsley a small smile, then felt the pull of apparation as he spun them away from her flat.

She had just landed on her feet when she heard a loud cry. She opened her eyes to see Antonin running toward them.

"Miss Granger, are you ok?" He asked in a worried voice. He stopped just short of her, his arms moving to wrap her up, before his mind stopped himself, remembering the Minister's careful watch. Instead his eyes moved over her body swiftly, making sure she wasn't injured.

From the moment the Minister's first patronus had arrived, Antonin had taken to standing and pacing in front of the door of his cottage. His shock from Hermione's abrupt departure had worn off, now replaced with an unmistakeable sense of dread over the safety of the witch whose lips had melted a piece of him. He hadn't felt so helpless in a long time. As he waited for the Minister to bring her to him, he was overwhelmed by the need to rush to her side, no matter the consequences of such a gesture.

"I'm fine, Crookshanks was the only one injured. Is it ok if he stays here as well?" Hermione asked, looking up into Antonin's deep brown eyes clearly creased with worry.

"Of course, you both are welcome here as long as you need. Let's get inside," Antonin said, nodding in the direction of the cottage some ten feet behind him. The weather had started to chill the evening air, bringing fall to them quickly.

Antonin led them into the cottage, and shut the door swiftly behind them. With a quick wave of his wand he lit the fire in the grate just as Hermione opened the basket to reveal the ginger half-kneazle he had heard about.

"Hermione, I can't stay. I need to get back to the Ministry, sort this all out. Hannah will be by tomorrow. I'm sure will Harry, as well. But owl immediately if you need anything. If you make a list of possessions that you want removed from your flat, I'll work to get them released first."

Hermione gave Kingsley a tight hug, giggling when he lifted her off the ground in a small spin. "Thank you, Kings."

Kingsley Shacklebolt left the cottage. Before he disappeared, he added another layer of protection to the wards over the small cottage in order to prevent anyone from apparating directly into the cottage. Hermione and Antonin both looked at the door as they felt the frisson of the wards change move over their skin.

The small room descended into an awkward silence as Crookshanks made his way out of the basket. His bottlebrush tail twitched as he took in all the new smells.

Hermione looked down at her feet, suddenly very aware of Antonin's close proximity even after the distraction of her ruined flat. She swallowed, trying to push past the dryness of her mouth, "Mr. Dolohov, I'm….uh….I'm sorry….about….well you know….um."

Antonin moved closer to her, as she stuttered out an explanation. When she was finally within arms length, he wrapped his hand around her and pulled her in a crushing hug against his chest. His face buried in her beautiful curls, he held her close, delighting in the feel of her body against his.

Hermione moved past the shock of finding herself against him and found her nose moving against his chest, taking in the comforting smell of Antonin. She couldn't logically explain why at this moment she felt safe, even comforted by his presence. The awkwardness temporarily forgotten. She lost track of how long he held her. His steady force keeping them upright as she allowed herself to feel the weight of the last few days finally come crashing around her. Tears fell silently down her cheeks, as she remembered her destroyed flat and Crookshanks covered in blood.

Antonin started swaying lightly when the silent tears turned to full sobs. He began moving them backwards towards the sofa. When the back of his legs hit the cushions, he sat down, pulling her down with him. He moved one hand from around her to run through her curls, he kissed the top of her head and began to murmur quiet words in Russian

"They….hurt….Crooks…." Hermione sobbed against Antonin's chest. "My flat….it's destroyed….everything….ruined."

Antonin continued his gentle Russian, as his other hand rubbed at her back.

"What if….what if they….find me here? What if….they find….you." Hermione cried with fresh vigor at the mere idea of Antonin being hurt again.

Antonin put a finger under her chin, raising her tear streaked face to look up at him. He wiped at her red, puffy eyes, clearly them of unshed tears. "Hermione, I will not let anyone hurt you. Ever again." His expression was tense, even though his eyes were still tender. His fury just beneath the surface, he pushed it back, in fear that she would think it was directed at her.

Hermione's breath caught in her throat at the declaration. Carefully she leaned forward, pressing her wet lips to his in a soft, sweet kiss that gave them both a sense of comfort and banished the awkwardness that had existed since she had run from their first kiss.

"Thank you, Antonin." Hermione murmured, as she lowered her head back onto his chest, inhaling the comfort of Antonin's masculine scent.

Hours later, after Hermione's tears had dried and Antonin had reheated soup for them, Antonin found himself under investigation by her half-kneazle cat. He refrained from chuckling as the cat sat in front of him, staring imperiously at him with his wide amber eyes.

"He's not attacking you, which is a good sign," Hermione chuckled watching Crooks sniff out their new roommate. "Normally, the people he doesn't like get attacked."

"So, if I wake up with scratch marks, I'll know why?" Antonin said, unable to hide the laughter in his voice.

Hermione chuckled, nodding as she took a big spoonful of soup. After a few minutes, Crookshanks stood up and jumped off the table, allowing Antonin to finish eating without the scrutiny of her protective cat.

They finished their meal in pleasant chatter, Antonin describing his idea for a new charm to Hermione. They both delighted internally in finding someone to discuss spell theory and creation with, it had never happened to either of them, and they both cherished each other's company.

"I normally create all my spells in Russian, my parents native tongue, and my first language," Antonin explained as he charmed the dishes to wash themselves and made his way over to the couch.

"Yes, but the original _lumos_ charm is in latin, so wouldn't the slight alteration of your charm also need to be in latin?" Hermione asked, as she joined him on the sofa.

Their conversation descended into more detailed theory and creation talk. Before either of them realized, the clock on the wall chimed midnight, and Hermione yawned loudly.

"Oh goodness, I hadn't realized how late it was," Hermione said. Her sentence interrupted by another loud yawn, which made Antonin laugh. Since the first time she had heard the noise come from him, she couldn't help but smile at the loud boom of his laughter.

"Let's get you to bed. You've had a long day." Antonin said, offering his hand to the witch as he stood up. When she took his proffered hand, he smiled brightly, entwining his fingers in hers.

They both went up the stairs, separating at their respective doors with a sweet hug.

Hermione quickly changed into her soft blue pyjama pants and her white tank top, climbed into the bed, and under the covers. Her mind replaying the last few days again. Suddenly, her new room creaked and she bolted upright, her wand held out in front of her. Her heart thundering, she clutched her hand to her chest, trying her best to calm down.

As the minutes stretched by the house continued to creak and moan, and the sea outside beat against the shore. She found herself getting back out of bed. Her hand stopped on the doorknob of her room before she turned it, pulling the door open, and crossing the hall.

With a quick knock on the opposite door, she waited until it opened with a shirtless Antonin before her. "I can't sleep….I mean….I can't sleep by myself." Hermione stuttered, her voice low as her brown eyes locked on his hopefully. "Would it be ok, if I….well, if I stayed with you?"

Antonin stared down at her for a few accelerated heartbeats before he stepped to the side, allowing her to pass through his doorway. As he shut the door, Hermione climbed into the bed, on the side opposite of the turned down blankets. When he turned back around to look at the bed, he smiled, before he climbed in behind her. Antonin pulled her flush against his body, wrapping a comforting arm around her small frame.

"Goodnight, Antonin," Hermione whispered in the room.

Antonin pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head, "Goodnight, Hermione."

* * *

 _To be continued..._


	7. Chapter 7

**A/n: Happy Christmas Eve Eve lovelies! This chapter took me a little longer to finish because, well I had big plans for it, and it took me a while to put them all together. I hope you love it as much as I do!**

 **This chapter has yet to be beta'd so please ignore my over use of commas, and any mispellings or errors that currently exist. As soon as the chapter has been edited I'll post the corrected one.  
Huge love to my patient and wonderful betas gidgetmalfoy and kanewolfe**

 **As always please leave your love currency for me, it means the world to me, especially during the holidays!**

 **I hope you all have magical holidays!**

* * *

Antonin opened his eyes when the sounds of soft snores filled his ears. Looking to his left, at the curly haired witch currently laying flush against his side, her mouth hanging open. He couldn't help the smile on his face at the sight of this witch in his arms, her curls tousled behind her head covering the pillow behind her.

From the moment she had walked into his bedroom and climbed under the covers, they had been touching in some form or another. He had drifted off to sleep with her back against his stomach, her delicate breathing pulling him under, the steady rhythm comforting him in ways he had yet to experience. He had spent most of his youth, up to his incarceration, avoiding women, unable to find one that was intellectually stimulating, and thought about more than the blood status of who she was currently dating.

Now holding this beautiful, intelligent witch in his arms he was overwhelmed by the need to banish the darkness that was haunting her. Just before she had fallen asleep, she had cried, silently, and he had pulled her tighter, neither one of them acknowledging the tears she needed to shed.

With one last look at his curly haired witch, he closed his eyes, hopeful that whatever it was between the two of them, wouldn't cause tension in the morning when she woke up.

* * *

Hermione woke up to bright rays of sunlight streaming through the thick windows of the unfamiliar room she found herself in. Turning on her side she caught sight of Antonin, his large body wrapped around hers, and his arm thrown over her hip, trapping her to the bed. With careful, slow movements she made her way out from under his heavy arm and to the side of the bed. She stood for a moment, staring down at the sleeping wizard. She couldn't ignore what the sight of him shirtless was doing to her body, her heart sped up and she felt a distinctive curling in her stomach that made her want to crawl back into bed with him, but for other things besides sleep.

Shaking her head, she walked on tiptoes to the toilet, and took care of her morning ablutions. She was having trouble accepting that she had spent the night wrapped in the arms of a convicted Death Eater, and that she wished she could do it again. What was happening to her, that she not only found this man comforting but attractive. His solid presence yesterday after what happened to her flat, could be the only explanation to her growing feelings for the man.

While she stood looking back at her reflection in the mirror, she went through their time together since she had brought him from Azkaban, his sickness and need had broken her heart, and made him appear so much more human than her earlier memories had ever allowed. Recalling the argument they had shared about the clothes and books brought a small smile to her face. It had been a long time since she had been able to spare with anyone, and he was a formidable opponent, yet she knew that in giving in to her, that meant something. He certainly didn't seem like the type of man to just give in for anyone.

She still cringed at the memory of him laying in the leaf strewn front lawn of the small cottage covered in blood and falling unconscious in her arms. It was a sight she had seen throughout a lot of her younger years but seeing Antonin like that, caused her heart to clench in fear, and her belly to heat in anger at the idea of someone hurting him.

Their kiss had been both tender and earth shaking in it's brief heat, like a bolt of lightning to her core. She hadn't been kissed like that, in her entire life, it felt like pure fire and magic. It was a kiss that left her aching for more, but you were almost afraid of being burned. She had run after the kiss, scared of what it meant, and needing to run from how intensely it had affected her. But she had run right into chaos, and Antonin had been there to comfort her, to shelter her and make her feel safe when her world felt like it was falling to pieces.

Smiling she decided that no matter what happened from here forward, that Antonin deserved a chance, and the heat that existed between them also deserved a chance to be explored.

Just as she had put the toothbrush into her mouth she heard a yell from the other room, and a deep thundering noise of something hitting the wooden floors. Bolting from the bathroom, toothbrush still in her mouth, she flourished her wand from her pyjama pants. She ran into Antonin's room, to find him standing wand out.

As soon as his dark brown eyes locked on her's, he lowered his wand and rushed forward, wrapping her tightly in his warm embrace.

"Solnyshko, Merlin I thought something had happened to you," he whispered into her curls.

Hermione tried to pull back from him, her toothbrush crushed between her cheek and his chest, but his hold wouldn't relinquish. She started murmuring in aggravated tones, trying to get his attention.

Antonin let her go, looking down, "Sorry."

"I'm sorry, I didn't want to wake you, but I needed to use the loo," she explained, pulling the toothbrush from her mouth, her words mumbled as she tried to keep the foam in her mouth. "I'll be right back."

Antonin nodded, chuckling lightly at his overreaction when his witch had just gone to the loo. He knew she brought out a side of him that he had never experienced, but his heart had dropped when he had opened his eyes and not found his witch nestled against him.

Hermione returned to the bedroom, sans toothbrush, smiling, "You're a silly wizard."

"At least you're safe." Antonin smiled back at her, before reaching his hand towards her. When she accepted his hand, he pulled her against him again, this time with less crushing. He kissed the top of her beautiful curls before he whispered, "Good morning Solnyshko."

Hermione smiled, inhaling his scent that made her heart race, "Good morning, what does that one mean?" She loved the feel of his arms wrapped around her, a closeness she couldn't recall ever feeling.

"Roughly translated it means small sun," Antonin explained, still holding her tight. "You remind me of the sun, bright and beautiful, terrifying and powerful, but incredibly necessary and most of all light just seems to seep from your very soul and warms everyone around you."

Hermione had never been one to swoon, but at that very moment she understood the concept. She thanked Merlin his arms were still wrapped around her tightly. Never before in her life had she heard such romantic words said to her from any man. "Thank you," she murmured in a low voice, unable to think of anything else to say to such a declaration.

Antonin let go of her after a few minutes, "What would you like to do today?"

"I need to make a list of the things I need from my flat. Harry or Hannah might drop by, but I need to owl Hannah a list of items to pick up from the market. Then maybe we can look at your charm?" Hermione said, a fixed smile on her face.

"Whatever you wish _Solnyshko_." Antonin said, murmuring the last word, delighting in the blush that graced her beautiful cheeks.

* * *

Around lunch time, they heard a knock on the door, and with his wand raised, Antonin opened the door, to reveal a wind bitten blonde witch, sporting an armful of bags.

"Oh Mrs. Potter, let me help you." Antonin said, stowing his wand away as he kicked the door closed.

"Thank you Mr. Dolohov, please call me Hannah," Hannah said, smiling at the wizard and handing over the bags of groceries.

Hermione stood and once the Antonin deposited the bags on the table began to unpack them, "Thank you so much Hannah."

"Of course, your list was rather small so when you and Mr. Dolohov need more, please just owl again, with a longer list." Hannah said fixing Hermione with a look that the brunette knew meant business.

"If I'm to call you Hannah then please call me Antonin," he said, helping Hermione with the bags.

Hannah looked at him carefully, her sharp eyes noticing the familiarity the two had in their close proximity. "Of course, Hermione can you come upstairs I have a few things from your flat," Hannah said, communicating with her eyes that Hermione was to agree immediately.

"Oh of course. I'll be right back," Hermione said, and lead the way up to her room.

Hannah took one look around before she sat down and stared at her best friend carefully, "So spill, what has happened between you and Antonin. Before his hospital visit, you two were so formal with each other, now you're positively comfortable, and dare I say maybe even more."

Hermione blushed, but smiled, her beautiful Hufflepuff friend missed nothing, especially when it came to her friends and family, and they felt like family. "Well, after I brought him home from St. Mungo's, he….well he and I….well we kissed."

Hannah's eyes widened, as she shouted "You what?!"

"Shhhh, keep your voice down."

"Sorry."

"Hannah, it was seriously the best kiss I've ever experienced in my whole life, like lightning." Hermione said, unable to keep her voice from sounding dreamy. "I can't explain why, but I feel so comfortable around him, maybe it's the Death Eater thing, but I know that he'd do anything to protect me."

Hannah smiled, happy to see her friend smiling. She and Harry had spent so much time trying to figure out how to get Hermione to the point where she could experience love the way they did, because she just seemed so lonely. Regardless that the man happened to be a previous Death Eater, because he was forced into it, if he could bring that smile to Hermione's face, Hannah wasn't going to judge. "Well I'm happy as long as you're happy."

Hermione hugged her friend, "Thank you, I don't know what we are or anything, so please don't tell anyone."

"I won't, not even Harry, he might go all older brother on him." Hannah said winking.

As the two witches made their way back down the stairs giggling madly ten minutes later, Antonin looked up from the charms book he was reading on the couch.

"Well Antonin, please don't hesitate to add anything to Hermione's list that you want as well." Hannah said as she put her coat back on, preparing to leave.

"Thanks again Hannah, we'll see you soon." Hermione said, hugging her friend one last time, before Hannah left.

* * *

"No, the spell was originally created in _latin_ if you want to alter the charm, you need to do it in _latin_ ," Hermione said, shaking her head in disbelief at the stubborn wizard before her. They had cooked dinner together, and Hermione found her cooking lessons to be both pleasant and a tad teasing as they kept bumping into one another.

After dinner they had laid out all his charm books, and his leather notebook opened to his notes on area of effect spells, and a scroll where he had transcribed his notes into English for Hermione to look over.

Antonin groaned, "I have _never_ created a spell in anything but Russian, my spells are more effective in _my_ native tongue." He eyed the witch carefully, both delighting in the argument and annoyed that she was trying to tell him how to create spells.

"But you're not _creating_ a spell, you're altering it." Hermione protested, folding her arms across her chest.

"Stubborn witch, how about I try it in Russian and you continue to look up the translations in latin?" Antonin said, smirking, he knew she was frustrated at the lack of books before them, and she had been making lists of latin root words trying to find the correct combination of words to create the spell he had in mind.

"Fine!" She exclaimed, picking up her quill and continuing to jot down latin roots.

With a chuckle, Antonin went over to the sofa, and with a quick wave of his wand extinguished every light except the one above the table helping his witch see. With careful movements he began to mumble under his breath focusing his magical energy on his goal, visualizing the outcome.

In his younger years when developing spells it would take minutes if not hours of continued reiteration of the same phrase with the visualization of the outcome before a spell would even begin to show up. The minutes wore on, when he heard a loud sigh from his witch, and her brown eyes locked on his in the darkening cottage. With one last murmur of the spell he was dazed by the burst of light from the tip of his wand.

With a cry of excitement he asked, "Hermione can you see any light from the tip of my wand?"

"No," she said simply, her voice showing her aggravation.

"Well this room is suddenly flooded with light, the spell worked." Antonin stated simply moving in a small circle shining light into every corner of the large room.

Hermione stood from her chair, curiosity taking over, "You mean it worked?"

"Yes, if you can't see the light then it truly is only for personal use, it's an area of effect lumos that only the caster can see. In a darkened room the only one with light would be the caster!" Antonin exclaimed, excitement taking over as his witch walked closer her eyes wide as though she might suddenly step into the brightness coming from his wand.

"Teach me," Hermione said simply when she finally came to stand beside him.

"Give me a few minutes to perfect the magical signature, otherwise it would be meaningless to you," Antonin said, ending the spell with a simple knox, which pleased him.

After ten minutes of him constantly retrying the spell always with great success, and even finding that he could visualize the strength of the lumos to desired brightness, he felt ready to share it with her.

"Ok," he said finally, turning to stare at her, her beautiful eyes locked on his, excitement clearly showing in their depths. "Say _lichnyy_ _Solnyshko_."

"But that's the word you called me earlier, isn't it?" Hermione asked, her eyebrow raised.

"Yes, I created a spell that means "personal small sun", and I thought of you as I created it."

Hermione's heart raced, and her breath caught in her throat. When she remembered to breathe, she took a deep breath and standing on her tip toes leaned up to kiss him.

With his arms wrapped around her, he pulled her in close, the overwhelming need to feel her and bring her closer, leading him. With one hand in her curls he deepened their kiss, tentatively running his tongue over her lower lip.

When they finally broke apart, Hermione breathlessly murmured, "Thank you Antonin."

* * *

 _To be continued..._

* * *

 **Solnyshko - small sun (think "you're my sunshine")**


End file.
